The Lost Found
by Peacharwen77
Summary: Seven years after the events of LOTR, Aragorn and Arwen expect their first child and Legolas meets someone who he thinks may be the one he is meant to spend the rest of his life with. But Enguina of Lorien, sister of Haldir, carries past hurts of her own that make it difficult for her to trust him, and all the while, a plot is brewing to destroy the hopes of the people of Gondor.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I updated this story to Rating M, just to be safe. One of the most recent Chapter Updates includes a scene that is in flashback form but I wanted to cover myself so everyone knows.

* * *

The sunlight spilled through the window, lighting the features of her sleeping face. The light woke her slowly, as if the sun itself did not yet want to rise. Truth be told, she knew what awaited her when she awoke fully—the misery of a morning illness.

Her stomach did a slight turnover, and that was the moment she first realized that she must be fully awake. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her swirling stomach. Rolling gently onto her back, she tried to soothe the feeling of throwing up all she had for dinner last evening. She hated waking up to that feeling, but there had not been an option lately. What she did like waking up to every morning was the man she knew lay beside her, and of late, the notion that she was with child. _With child…_

The thought made a smile break onto her beautiful face, and she turned her head to her left to look on the handsome form of her beloved. She watched as the sun slowly rose in the window, lifting the light on his face upward with it. He slept peacefully, and she smiled again, moving her hand forward to run her fingers through his long, soft brown hair. He smiled.

She gave him a suspicious look. "Aragorn…" she whispered softly, "are you awake, melda?" She traced her fingers down his cheek, feeling the prickliness of his beard, and then realized that he was not awake. He must be having a very good dream. For him to smile in his sleep was rare, and the days she caught him were even more so. She treasured the days when she awoke first, for normally, she would wake and find him watching her sleep. Today, she could watch him slowly awaken with the dawn. She must have kept him up too late last night. _Ah well…_ She smiled at the thought of keeping him up late again…though she could not do it too often, the Council would complain that he was lacking as a King, though he never was. Aragorn lived for the people, and no matter what job was required of him, he did it with his whole heart. She loved him so, and her smile grew as she thought of it.

Her smile faded, and she swallowed again, closing her eyes against the feel of the morning breeze on her cheek. _Calm stomach…calm…_ How she hated that feeling! She rolled onto her left side for a moment and gently brushed his lips with hers. Carefully, she slipped from their bed, allowing him to stay asleep for however much longer his own body would permit. Slipping on her robe and tying it, she moved quietly to the window, thinking of her morning illness, but even more thinking of what that meant.

A child…a babe that was hers and Aragorn's. He was the happiest man in the world, not that he had not been happy before, but they had waited so long; nearly seven years they had been wed and they had no children. He would be the most wonderful father, for she had always thought so and had never doubted for a moment how badly either of them wanted children. From the old days, it had always been difficult for elves to have children, and she was so certain that they had been blessed. She and Aragorn had been blessed with a child, and from the moment it was discovered, they had been thanking Eru ever since. It did not matter to her whether the child was boy or girl, just that it was hers and Aragorn's…that the child was of their union and of Eru's making. No matter how difficult the carrying of this child would be, she would gladly bear it.

She rested her head against the wooden border of the window of the King's House—their home. Gondor never looked more beautiful than just before morning and just before nightfall. Her mind still focused on the small life within her; she began to sing softly to that life, a lullaby that she remembered since she was just a little girl:

 _Lissë titta lapsë, hlaralye sina nînóma?_

 _Lissë titta hina, rato nuvalye ranquiesse nîn._

 _Lissë titta lapsë, rato cenuvalye i récal._

 _Lissë titta hina, rato nuvalye ranquiesse nîn._

 _Lissë titta lapsë, oloe i réieva túl._

 _Lissë titta hina, rato nuvalye ranquiesse nîn._

 _Lissë titta lapsë, hina nîn, i menelanna._

 _Lissë titta hina, rato nuvalye ranquiesse nîn._

 _Rato nuvalye ranquiesse nîn._

"[Sweet little babe, can you hear this voice of mine? Sweet little child, soon you will be in my arms. Sweet little babe, soon you will see the light of day. Sweet little child, soon you will be in my arms. Sweet little babe, dream of the days to come. Sweet little child, soon you will be in my arms. Sweet little babe, my child, the gift from heaven. Sweet little child, soon you will be in my arms. Soon you will be in my arms.]"

She had been so focused on the small soul within her that she had not heard Aragorn rise from the bed. He had listened to her nearly whispered song, and had almost fallen back asleep to it. She looked so radiant standing there in the morning light that she took his breath away; he took in her long legs, her dark hair, her lithe figure…. As her voice trailed off, he moved up behind her and gently placed his arms about her, his hands stretching gently over her womb. She closed her eyes, and laid her head back against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his robe brush her cheek. She smiled softly.

"Arwen…" he whispered, and brushed his lips to her neck, trailing kisses along her jaw. She laid a hand on his face, feeling his beard once again, and she held his chin as she gave him a gentle kiss. She slipped her left hand over his. "How are you feeling this morning, beloved?"

She smiled at him, and swallowed again. "The usual, verno." He lifted her chin so that his eyes met hers, and he looked at her seriously.

"That badly?" he questioned her, his expression concerned. "Perhaps you should still be in bed." She laughed gently, her voice filling the room, and she shook her head at him.

"If I were to lie down at every ill moment, I would not get _out_ of our bed."

He smiled then. "Then to think, you would always be where I want you," he laughed.

She slapped the arm wrapped about her waist. "Where you want me?"

"Well…not always; this morning I hoped you would be feeling well enough for a ride. Asfaloth has been questioning me quite a bit lately, and I thought perhaps you would go down and calm his fear that you no longer love him as much as you once did." She frowned.

"I do not see him as often as I would like," she admitted.

"He knows you still love him," he said, stroking her hair away from her face. "But he misses you, nonetheless."

"I do not think I will make it down there today, but I still think that you should go. Do not punish Brego and Asfaloth for your wife's sake. Take them for their ride."

"They enjoy it when you come," he said seriously.

She smiled tenderly at him. "I know it. However…"

"I understand. And you are right; Brego will be angry with me if I do not go down. I will give your love to them, of course." He sighed, and then his face became affectionate. "How is our child this morning?"

"Not kicking yet," she laughed, "but I am certain she is wonderful."

"And soothed by your loving voice, no doubt." She smiled at him as he ran his hands along the small bump that was her womb.

"You heard me," she stated.

"Near the end of your song, I did wake," he said, and then he tilted his head over her shoulder and looked down at her belly. "Good morning, little one. Daddy was listening to Mother sing to you; her voice is so beautiful, is it not? And when you are here with us, in our arms, Mommy will sing to you all the time."

"And Daddy," Arwen said softly and he leaned his face into her throat and kissed her skin. She trembled, smiling slyly to herself. "And here, I thought Daddy was so tired that his body had abandoned all sense of time."

His eyes darkened, and certainly not with anger. "If there were _enough_ time—"

"Ah…but then you would be exhausted again, and Faramir would say that you are too tired to be King Elessar today."

He gave her a look that at any other time would have taken down the walls she had in place to protect herself from him taking her back to their bed. She quickly looked away and moved from his arms. He reached out to grab her, but she slipped out of his reach with a short laugh.

She glanced back at him and saw his desire for her in his eyes. "Aragorn…must I get a rein for you as well as for Brego?" she asked. He gave her _that_ smile, the one only meant for her.

"My love…a bit as well."

"Aragorn…" she warned, as he moved a step closer to her. She held out her hand palm outward, and he stopped short. "Control yourself…behave…" she scolded. "You have much to do today…your work with Legolas and Gimli on the rebuilding of the wall—"

"Legolas and Gimli may wait." He took a step closer.

"—Faramir may need your help with the guards—"

"Faramir can deal with it alone." He took another step.

"—Brego will be angry—"

"If Brego had a wife such as you, he would completely understand. Nevertheless, I will explain the situation to him and he will realize that he should not be angry." He was within an arm's length of her now, and her hand was pressed against his chest, still holding him at bay.

She laughed. "You will tell Brego?"

"Everything…" he said softly, lowering his voice purposely to seduce her to lean closer to hear him. "Brego hears all; he will understand."

"I do not—Aragorn!" At the last moment, he reached for her, and she _just_ escaped, hurrying out of his reach. Instead of giving up like she thought he would, he gave chase. She burst out laughing as he chased her out of their bedroom, through the sitting room, around their dining room table, and back into the bedroom. She rounded the doorway, just as he caught up with her. He reached out and snatched her about the little bump, his arm wrapping lower over her hips, and she cried out in laughter as he pulled her towards him and then pushed her back gently up against the wall. He held one arm on either side of her to keep her in place. Bending his head low, he gave her a gentle kiss.

She sighed after kissing him in return. "You should go now," she said softly. He nodded slightly, and leaned over to kiss her again, this time on her forehead. He straightened and brushed her hair from her face. Smiling, he turned away to get dressed. She laughed and eyed his back suspiciously. "You had no intention of seducing me…"

He flashed her a smile over his shoulder. "The thrill of the chase, meleth nîn, though I _could_ have laid you back in that bed. Sadly, I cannot meet you for breakfast. I _am_ going immediately to help supervise the wall after Brego's ride, so I will not see you before dinner. Try not to get into much trouble today, meleth."

"Aragorn, I am going out among the throngs…what could possibly go wrong?"

He laughed. "Have a wonderful time, meleth. I love you." He slipped into the other room, and she smiled at his back.

She laughed again. "Im mela le, Elessar."

* * *

"Mān tuile lean, mellon Brego, [Good morning to you, friend Brego,]" said Aragorn as he moved into the great bay's stall. Asfaloth snorted from the one next to him just as Brego nudged Aragorn. "I did not forget you, Asfaloth. Arwen sends her love, but she is still not feeling well, as you both know. Did you believe I was not coming, friends?"

Both horses snorted in reply, and Brego tossed his head, moving it so that it went over the man's shoulder. Aragorn laughed and rubbed his neck.

"I could not go a day without a visit." After a nicker from both of the stallions, Aragorn began to groom the bay. Asfaloth waited patiently for his turn, and it soon arrived, for the man they both loved so much did not waste time. He smiled thoughtfully to himself as he combed the gray's mane. If he did not have these horses in his life, what would he do with himself? Riding had always been one of the greatest pleasures of his life, and he would take advantage of that every moment he could. Brego nickered at him, popping his head over the stall to look at him.

Aragorn's face glowed. "Not for a few more months, at least. We must be patient for the little one, my friend." Asfaloth whinnied. "Yes," Aragorn replied with a laugh, "it is an awfully long time to wait, but we have no choice in the matter. I am certain that Faramir will bring their little one down to see Windfola and Dwimorisen, so perhaps you will get to see at least _one_ child soon."

When he had finished, he walked out of Asfaloth's stall and headed down the aisle. Both stallions joined him, eager to start their morning run. He stroked the noses of Faramir and Éowyn's, Legolas's, and Gimli's horses on his way out of the stable. He walked in between the two huge stallions as they traveled towards the outer city gate. 'Good mornings' were said along the way, followed by many 'hail the King's which Aragorn acknowledged; to him, the morning was not Elessar's time, but Aragorn's.

Reaching the outer gate, Aragorn slowed and stopped, staring out at the large fields that lay for many miles about the City. Asfaloth stared too; however, he was eager to go and snorted. Brego, who was even more impatient than the grey, pawed the ground and bumped Aragorn with his head. He laughed and rubbed the bay's forehead.

"All right, my friend, let us get going, shall we?" Brego tossed his head in reply, and it was Asfaloth's turn to do a stamp of impatience. Aragorn patted his shoulder and then vaulted up onto the bay's back. As soon as Brego knew he had a grip, he and Asfaloth were off faster than an arrow shot from Legolas's bow.

Aragorn realized a moment later, as he usually did every morning, that it was now their time, and he was along for the ride. Clutching Brego's mane and holding on with just the muscles that he had in his legs, Aragorn was ready for another wonderful morning ride.

* * *

The Elven maiden tossed her head, allowing her long golden hair to flow free from the hood of her cloak. It was a chilly December morning, but being an elf she did not feel the weather as the humans did in the very human city before her. She wore an Elvish riding outfit that was comfortable and casual, but did nothing to hide her beauty. Anyone that glanced upon her would see the elegance and grace that was typical of her race.

Lothlórien was a long way behind her, but she was glad that she would soon see her good friend. It was an awfully long way to travel to see one person, and in the completely opposite direction than she was supposed to be traveling. As far as she had heard, her friend was the only elf in this strange mortal city, and she intended to find out what that was all about. When she was younger, she had spent many years with Arwen, particularly when the young daughter of Elrond had stayed with her grandmother in Lothlórien. She still could not believe that the young Elven woman she had spent so much time with in Lórien was the same one who had bound herself to a mortal and was now the Queen of the Reunited Kingdom. These stories were not of the Arwen she knew; when had she fallen for a mortal, and what could possibly bring her to the point where she had pledged her life to him, to consent to become his Queen? To get any answers, she would need to speak with Arwen. She reminded herself to try to keep her mind on the moment.

But it was difficult to do so as she had never been _anywhere_ that was strictly Adar; in fact, she had never been outside the borders of Lórien except to journey to the Grey Havens to see her parents away many, many years ago. That was the first, and the last time, she went out to see the world. Now, she had no desire to see the world…only her friend, and then she would be on her way back to the Havens herself for _her_ final journey. Middle-Earth held nothing for her anymore. She was _tired_ … _so tired._ It was time for her to leave, just as the Lady had left; Lothlórien was a shadow of its former self.

The fair-haired elf looked down at the dark mane of the stallion she rode. It had not been her intention to purchase a horse who was so high-strung. She had been told he was a good mount and that he would carry her well, and elves were known to be naturally good with animals. This horse she had come to find, however, was as stubborn as a mule and at other times as flighty as a deer. He was constant movement, and if she had any sense at all, she would have fared better trekking the entire distance on foot. She had come to calling him 'Avar,' which meant 'refuser;' he was a fire-brand who always chose to do what he wanted whenever he wished to do it. She did try to reward him when he was good, though, and as they jogged nicely towards the many-layered City, she reached down to stroke the black's neck.

"Good boy, Avar; good work." The black snorted and then suddenly exploded beneath her like a cannon, leaping up into the air and rearing, striking out with his front legs, and then leaping again and thrashing out with his back feet. The maiden snatched mane, her left foot slipping from the stirrup as he came back down from his rear, and when he bucked, she was flung out of the saddle. Gripping the stallion's mane and breastcollar, she released the reins, landing hard on her feet with a huff. He bucked once more and she rolled out of the way of his flashing hooves and they both came to a stop in the fields of the Pelennor several feet from each other. Avar dropped his head and began munching on the dying grass, and she, sitting now, glared at him.

"Honestly! What is the matter with you?" she snarled. It had to be the most irritating behavior! She had always been a good rider, but this horse was testing all the limits of her patience; she never had much to begin with, and she had a temper like her father— _short,_ with a snaplike a whip. She rolled her shoulders and neck and brushed grass from her sleeves.

She had to lift her head when she heard hoof beats, as she was not expecting them, being the only one out here on the road between the outer and inner gates. Nearly fifty yards from her were two horses, a gray and a bay, one bearing a man. The black's head shot up as well, and he nickered a greeting. The man stopped a few yards away and dismounted, walking towards her, his features concerned. Her palms suddenly began to sweat, and she readied herself to leap to her feet in defense.

"My Lady, are you all right?" he asked. As he came up to her, she eyed him closely. She might have called him handsome had he not had a beard; she disliked facial hair in general, but then, she was an elf. He had grey eyes and dark hair, and his face was kind…but she knew better than to trust that. It was the gentleness in his voice, the softness in it that surprised her. He wore well-used boots, a simple tunic and leggings, and his horses bore no tack at all—which showed him to be a good rider and from within the walls.

"I am fine, my Lord," she said, and though he reached a hand out to her, she eyed it with distrust. She rose to her feet quite smoothly on her own. "I thank you." The man looked at her and found that not only was she Elvish, she seemed very familiar somehow…but that was impossible.

"Where have you journeyed from, my Lady? The Elvish kingdoms are far…Lothlórien, perhaps?" She seemed wary to say anything to agree or disagree with that assessment, so he continued, trying to make her a bit more at ease. She seemed nervous…like a skittish horse waiting for a reason to explode into motion. "I saw what happened," he said, nodding back towards his horses, which stood behind him. "I was nearby. He is a magnificent stallion…which I think he knows very well." He chuckled and the elf sighed, crossing her arms. "What is his name?"

She glanced behind him towards his horses; the grey was looking towards her black and whinnying, the bay was still as a stone, watching the man speaking with her. "I…Avar is his name. I am a good rider," she said honestly, "but he simply ignores me and breaks into fits of bucking and rearing. Nothing I do seems to calm him."

"You are an elf, my Lady," the man said softly and with a smile, "therefore, you were born to ride." She raised an eyebrow at him, and he continued, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She did not mean to sound haughty, but it came out that way. "Thank you, my Lord, but I think that if I can do nothing, there is nothing left to do but find him another master. This would seem a decent enough place to do so."

He frowned. "Would you mind if I had a talk with him?" She shrugged, extending a hand, but stared at him, thinking of his words as he turned towards the black and walked over. _Talk with him?_

"Avar, hmmm?" the man queried, watching the horse carefully. The horse lifted his head and suddenly noticed him; he began to turn away, whirling on his haunches, but the man snatched the end of the horse's bridle and looked the black right in the eye. "You are young…" he muttered, "you are testing this woman, are you not? That is not how we treat humans."

The elf stared at him as he carried on a conversation with the horse; a seemingly one-sided conversation though Avar snorted a few times, but continued to stare into his face, very still. Finally, after about five minutes, the man released the horse's bridle. "Respect her; she has treated you well. You have no right to teach her anything, young as you are." There was a loud snort from the black, and he lowered his head, nibbling grass near the man's feet. Behind the man, the bay peeled back his lip and whinnied loudly, the grey bobbing his head up and down and flinging it into the air.

The man turned back to her and walked back to her side. "He wishes you to know he is sorry for his behavior," he said softly, watching the black. "He promises to better honor you, but he would like you to please call him by the name he has chosen for himself."

The elf stared at him, incredulous that this _man_ had in any way spoken with her horse; he was a simple mortal…and was almost certainly _mad_. And really, the horse choosing his own name? What did he think she was? "And, pray," she said, sarcasm dripping in her voice, "tell me what is this name, stranger?"

"He wishes for his name to be Morlómërog," the man said with a smile, and the black whinnied, tossing his head up and snorting. "He said it is mighty, where Avar is a mare's name." He shook his head. "His words, but he is a bit headstrong, and has a high opinion of himself."

The elf's eyes narrowed at him. Who _was_ this man? Her temper suddenly flared. Being insulted by a mere mortal was not to be borne; she was Eldar, immortal, practically revered. "Who are you? A man, a simpleton, who has no right to put words in beasts' mouths when they do not speak themselves and certainly no right to tell me what to name my horse." He looked to her, and suddenly realized how insulted she looked…and found himself discovering that she had not believed a single word that he had said had come from the horse's mouth.

"My Lady—"

"Not another word, please!" she snapped, holding up her hand, and striding away from him to grasp her horse's bridle. "I will deal with my horse as I wish, and I most certainly need no more help to be insulted, especially from strangers such as you. Thank you, but _no_ thank you. Ride back to wherever it is you came from, and quickly. _Good day_." She tugged the black's reins and he followed along behind her, as good as his word to the man. The gate was not very far; she could get there on foot.

Figuring he had better keep his mouth shut, the man sighed and watched after her. "It was nice to have met you, my Lady," he sighed. He knew enough to leave a lady alone, especially when a flare of temper appeared. He spread a hand out towards her in a grandiose gesture, laughing at his own foolishness. "Welcome to Gondor! Enjoy your stay in my fair city." He turned slowly back to Brego and Asfaloth.

Brego snorted and shook his head. Aragorn slapped him under the chin and he popped his head up, squealing.

"What are you laughing at, mellon nîn?"


	2. Chapter 2

High on the new stone wall extending from the outer gates of Gondor stood an elf and a dwarf. At any other time in history before the Great War, perhaps the sight would have been unheard of, but not for Legolas and Gimli, and certainly not in Minas Tirith for they were known well. The two companions stood overseeing the efforts of Gimli's kin on the construction of the new wall that was actually beginning to look as it was supposed to: a wall.

And a magnificent wall it was! Both white and grey stone were placed in order, repairing the outer wall even more beautifully than the last had ever been. Gimli was overly proud of his kinsmen, naturally, and found it hard not to commend their work every moment he got. Legolas, though believing that, yes the stone was very nice, also believed that it was not as finely crafted as it could be. After all, it was only stone, and so he had asked a number of his own brethren to appear when the wall was finally constructed to place carvings on it, making it more beautiful and appealing to travelers. They were also bringing more trees and flowers for the newly placed gardens in Minas Tirith. Gimli had come to see, eventually and in his own way, that this was a good idea, and so the friends were agreed.

"Where _is_ that Aragorn?" asked Gimli, turning to Legolas in annoyance. "The man was supposed to be here an hour ago." Legolas shrugged at Gimli, placing a foot on the top stone and leaning an elbow on his knee. Resting his chin on a closed fist, he looked out over the fields of Pelennor.

"Aragorn is a King, you know, Gimli. He has many responsibilities to which he must attend." Gimli made a short huffing noise.

"But he told us he'd be here and that his only plan for today was to see the wall's construction."

"And to oversee Faramir's guard plans."

He eyed the elf. "But you're not worried if he's here."

"I have found him," Legolas sighed. "He is riding Brego across the Pelennor."

Gimli growled, "That means at _least_ another hour by the time he gets up here!"

"Come now, Gimli, you cannot be serious," Legolas replied, his eyes sparkling. "The man has a wife and child to attend to. Even Faramir—"

Gimli snorted again. "Yes, Faramir, too! He can't even get his duties done with all the attention he pays to his child over them. Children are such a nuisance," he grumbled.

Legolas looked surprised as he gaped at Gimli. "Are you angry, my friend? Faramir has never failed to do his job, and children are a wonderful contribution to a marriage, are they not? Why, even you spoke to Éowyn about dwarven children!"

Gimli shrugged. "Perhaps, but the more children, the more friends are forgotten."

Legolas looked sadly at Gimli. "Friend Gimli, do not fear. Aragorn will no sooner forget you than Arwen's name, and you know how rare of an occasion that would be."

Gimli smiled at Legolas. "You won't forget me, eh, lad?"

"Never in all my long years have I _ever_ forgotten a friend, Gimli." He clasped the dwarf's shoulder, and smiled at him, hoping to reassure him. Gimli nodded, and caught sight of a kinsman moving a stone over Legolas's shoulder. "Tarin! What're ya doing? Turin's beard, that doesn't go there!" He turned back to his plans for the wall, forgetting about Aragorn's absence for the moment. Legolas smiled at the dwarf's back.

It had been almost two years since the birth of Faramir and Éowyn's young daughter, and since they had traveled back from the Shire. The time they had spent with Frodo had been very well; Legolas knew that he would not see the young hobbit for many more years, if he would see him at all. He understood from what Aragorn had said that Frodo was journeying with Gandalf to the Undying Lands. Legolas himself did not know if he would ever go there. The sea did call to him, but not enough to break the bonds of love he had with Middle-Earth, or with Aragorn and Gimli.

He looked out over the Pelennor once again and felt the cold breeze blowing in over the mountains of Mordor. He sighed; it would be yet another cold winter; it was already December. At least Arwen and Aragorn's child would be born in the early spring, and that was a good sign. He smiled at the thought. It was what he had been praying he would live to see: the child of Aragorn and Arwen. Arwen was five months along, and the people were still rejoicing, even two months later. More than anything, he had wanted his two friends who were bound in love to be happy. He was complete.

Something near the outer gate below him caught his eye and his heart skipped a beat for a moment…then two. He blinked to make sure his eyes were truly seeing what his mind was telling him he saw, but his heart was taken—suddenly and forever.

There, walking through the gate was a fair maiden with long golden tresses leading a black stallion. Even from such a distance, Legolas' elven sight could discern every feature on her beautiful form, from her green eyes to her long legs. Her outfit was elegant, yet practical, and her face shown with the light of the Eldar. Legolas had always said that Arwen was fairest of all creatures, but in his eyes, Middle-Earth had just revealed all of its beauty! Her perfect ears, her beautiful lashes, her golden hair—o! Ilúvatar could not have made someone else so perfectly! Forgetting where he was, he called out towards the morning sun.

"Man na túlahi ve i romen, vanya ve i isil, rillë ve i anar, ar bril ve i eleni alcaresse? [Who is this (that) comes as the dawn, fair as the moon, brilliant as the sun, and glittering as the stars in glory?]" His rhetorical question was more of a question to Eru, for where could this beautiful elvish maiden come but straight from a prayer? But whose prayer? Had he not just been thinking that he was complete? Suddenly, his heart felt empty, as though it needed to be filled…filled with _her._ He stood, transfixed as she began to enter into the City.

"Legolas…Legolas! What're you saying, lad? I cannot understand what in hell-fire you're saying, elf! Speak in words I can understand; speak in the common tongue!" Gimli looked at him, and then tried to see what it was that he was looking at, however the wall was a little too high for him, which only made him more annoyed. He looked at Legolas sharply, and then cuffed him in the shoulder. "What did you say, lad? I can't understand you! _Make yourself understood you_ —"

" _Gimli_ …" Legolas whispered, as she suddenly disappeared behind the wall, " _did you see her_?" He craned his neck every direction for just another glimpse, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Did I see _who_? I can't see anything over these _confounded_ walls! You know they're too high for me, so why don't you cease asking me such irritating questions!?" Legolas was so transfixed, that his eyes were still wide when they met Gimli's.

"The most beautiful…nay, _radiant_ Elvish maiden entered into the White City." Gimli stared at Legolas as he cast his eyes downward once again, hoping still to catch another glimpse of her, but to no avail. He quickly moved to the opposite side of the wall.

" _Elf!_ " Gimli hollered, and grunted, hurrying after him. Legolas leaned out over the stone, his Elven eyes searching for that golden hair. "There!" he said softly, pointing downward. "There she is, Gimli!"

Gimli looked at him, irritated. His eyes narrowed and he leaned against the wall, tapping his axe hilt against the stone beneath him. "Miserable elf…" he muttered.

"Gimli, do you not see?" he asked, as he stared after her, watching her disappear about the first turn of the wall. She was blocked from his view for good then.

"Of _course_ , lad…" he said sarcastically with a sigh, and then his face glowered when Legolas turned to look at him. "What in the blazes are you talking of, elf? Speak plainly!" Legolas turned to him, exasperated.

"You did not see her?" he asked, and Gimli grunted, whacking the nearby stone with his axe. Legolas sighed. "Gimli…an Elvish maiden with long golden hair and fair skin was entering through the gate leading a night-black steed. She was the most beautiful creature in all of Middle-Earth…I saw her as she came through! I have been watching her for the last moments…how could you have not seen her?"

"Lad…try to remember my height," he stated, and Legolas looked down guiltily. Gimli frowned at him. "Are you sure our conversation hasn't gone to your head…with all the couples we know having children lately…" said Gimli quizzically, hoping the elf would return to his senses.

"Gimli, I tell you the truth! Do you not believe me?" Legolas' pleading look convinced the dwarf to at least give him the benefit of the doubt.

"And what will you do, now that you've found this most beautiful maiden in all of Middle-Earth?" he asked, still believing that the fairest of all beings was Galadriel, and no one would convince him otherwise. Legolas' eyes changed suddenly, and in them Gimli saw something he had never seen unless he happened to catch Aragorn looking at Arwen in a quiet moment.

"I will find her…and win her heart," whispered Legolas, turning his eyes to the street below as if he would find her there.

"Whoa, laddy, hold your horses. You must help me with this wall first, and then perhaps we'll find this Lady you speak of. Come with me; some of my kin need some new instruction before this wall takes a tumble!" The dwarf turned away, but Legolas remained.

He stared one last time down towards the inner walls and streets of Minas Tirith. He had no idea how one moment his mind had been so clear and in the next, so foggy. He did know one thing, however, and that was how much he desired to meet this fair maiden face to face. He prayed that he would somehow find her and be given a chance to see her, for he was certain from how his heart was touched that she was a gift of the heavens. She was _made_ for him…and he would find her. He simply knew it.

"Vana Lothlórieniel mabahi orë nîn, a ilye estel nîn utuva! [This beautiful daughter of the Golden Wood takes my heart, and all my hope is found!]" he said softly and mostly to himself, knowing that she had stolen his heart from the moment his eyes fell on her from the wall. There was something in his heart far more than her beauty, and he knew that he would find out what it was only if he were allowed to speak with her. Only then would he be able to discern these feelings deep within him.

"Lad!" called Gimli from the stairs, and Legolas shook his head, trying desperately to focus on the matter at hand…though he found his heart still focused on the lovely maiden whom he had seen.

* * *

The young Elven woman stared at the lofty tower of the White City. She had never seen walls so high and yet made of stone! Where were the trees and the forests? How could any of these people bear to live in such a place filled with stone and no things for growing? It was unfathomable!

The guard who led her along was surely one of the many of the Citadel, though he was a young man, even in the lives of men. Scarcely more than twenty years, he was as a child to her, but he was handsome and friendly. He had offered to the Captain to take her and she was grateful, considering that she had no idea where she was going.

"The Tower of Ecthelion," he said to her as he led her up the steps. "This is the seat of power in Gondor, my Lady, and you are more than welcome to walk its fine halls whenever it suits you. The King welcomes all guests into the City."

"Indeed?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied. "The gates are hardly ever closed, though they are guarded of course. I hope you will enjoy your stay here."

"Thank you, guardsman."

They began walking through the first hall that opened from the first flight of stairs in the Tower. The narrow hallway opened into a wide room that was bright, airy, and pleasant, filling the Elven woman's heart with hope that the entire city was not closed walls of stone. Near the far window of the conference room stood a fair-haired, strong-looking woman holding a young child in her arms. She smiled as she saw them and turned towards them. The guard bowed.

"Good morning, Lady Éowyn. I hope I find both you and Andúnêiel well this morning."

"I assure you, Hildanir, that we are both very well indeed," she replied bouncing the child lovingly in her arms. She met the eyes of the Elven woman behind him. "And who is this you bring with you this morning?"

"She comes from far away to visit the Queen, my Lady…" he replied.

"I will take her from here, Hildanir. Thank you." He blushed and said 'good day' to the elf. He then turned and proceeded back down the hallway and out the front doors to resume his post.

"Good morning, my Lady," said Éowyn softly, but with a smile. "If you have traveled far, I trust your journey was a safe one. There is not much danger traveling across country at the moment that we know of, and we are always searching for ways to make the roads safer." She smiled and, hugging the child to her with one arm, extended her hand, and the elf clasped it genuinely. "I am Éowyn, the Steward's wife and Lady of Ithilien."

"I am pleased to meet you, Éowyn. I am Enguina." Éowyn looked at her for a moment before responding.

"You are very fair," Éowyn complemented her, and the child in her arms reached out a hand towards the elf, waving her fingers.

Enguina smiled. "I thank you, but I believe all the beauty in this room does belong to the small child you hold there in your arms." Enguina looked down at her and the small child's face lit with a smile, still waving. "She is wonderful…is she yours?"

"Oh, yes!" she laughed, blushing.

"And her name?" she asked softly, staring at the child's face. Éowyn was a bit surprised at the elf's interest, but she answered her question.

"Annî," Éowyn replied, and Enguina smiled again, reaching out to stroke a finger along her cheek.

"Forgive me if I seem a bit odd," she said with a whisper. "It is only that I have not seen a child in…well…in a very, very long time."

"I had heard that the Elves have had very few children in many long years. A few thousand?" Éowyn asked softly.

Enguina hesitated and then gave her a bit of a sheepish smile. "At least a few hundred."

"Do you know the Queen well?" Éowyn asked as Annî smiled at Enguina once again.

"She and I spent long years together in Lothlórien, but it has been nearly thirty years since we last saw one another." She hesitated again, and then seemed to find her voice. "So the rumor that came to me in there _is_ true," Enguina said, astonished, "Arwen really is the Queen of this City?"

"Queen of the City?" Éowyn laughed softly. "The Lady Arwen is the Queen of the _Realm_ …of the Reunited Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor. The world has been renewed and the lands are at peace. She has made a wonderful Queen. The people have never had wiser, nor more caring rulers on the throne, and they have had no King in hundreds of years. It has been a long time since Gondor had any hope…now they have it in bounds!"

"The war has been won; what more hope do the people require if not their King?"

Éowyn smiled again. "As I always say," she added with a bit of a shrug, "behind every strong man, there is a strong woman. That is also how it is with my husband and I."

"And your husband, he is not with you, to care for the child?"

"Ah…no, if you look out this window, you shall see him near the King's House over there. He is Captain of the Guard, the Prince of Ithilien, and also Steward to the King; his name is Faramir, and he has very many tasks to accomplish today, especially with the new guard patrols for the outer walls and the Tower. He wishes he were here, for half of the time he is with me he speaks of how he feels he is missing the life of his own daughter." She sighed. "I tried to explain to him that he is not, but he insists, and I cannot make him see reason."

Enguina looked out near the wall and she could see a very tall, fair-haired man speaking with the Captain she had seen this morning. He seemed very much in charge of whatever the situation was, and Enguina thought Éowyn must be very proud to have such a noble man as her husband.

"Come with me, Lady Enguina, and I will take you to your friend. I believe she is out in the garden near the Fountain of the White Tree. It is one of the most beautiful places in all of Minas Tirith."

"There are gardens here?"

Éowyn laughed as she led the way, and Enguina followed, still trying to accept all the changes that probably had taken place within her friend. This was all going to come as a huge surprise…no one was expecting her.

* * *

As Éowyn and Enguina came into the clearing between the rose bushes, Enguina got her first sight of the White Tree. It was more beautiful than she could have imagined. Surrounded at the base by white lilies and yellow daffodils that were still in bloom by some miracle, the sturdy sapling had grown strong and majestic in the three years since King Elessar had it planted there where the old had withered. Éowyn heard Enguina catch her breath and smiled.

"Yes, she is beautiful, is she not?"

"I have never seen a tree of its kind before!" she exclaimed, staring at the little pink blossoms that still remained, even in December.

"The King found her five years ago out in the far fields at the base of the mountains—"

"Éowyn? Éowyn is that you? I did not expect you so early, my friend!" Éowyn heard Arwen's voice around the other side of the tree, but the small sapling had grown well, and so she could not see her yet.

"I am here, Arwen, but I have brought a friend. Come around and you shall see her, for you have not for many years!" Arwen looked suspiciously at the tree, but decided that she would give in to Éowyn's little game. She stood and moved about the tree, and when she saw her friend, she gasped, her mouth dropping open as she laughed with delight.

"Enguina! Oh, _Enguina_ …how wonderful it is to see you again!" She hurried to her friend, and threw her arms suddenly about her neck. "It has been so many years! How have you been? _Where_ have you been? _Tell me everything_!" she cried through happy tears.

Enguina smiled through her own tears, wrapping her arms around Arwen's back. "I believe it is _you_ that have far more interesting stories to tell me, Arwen." She held her back from her a bit and looked at her, for she was as beautiful as the last moment she had seen her, and her happiness shown on her face as sunlight on the mountains. "And look at you," she whispered, cupping Arwen's face in her hands, "a _Queen_! _You_ must tell _me_ everything!" They both laughed and hugged again. Éowyn smiled as she watched them.

"I will leave you two alone to catch up. I will be in the Tower if you need anything, Arwen."

"Éowyn, thank you so for bringing Enguina to me," Arwen went to her and kissed her cheek. "Thank you! Before you go, how _are_ you this morning?"

Éowyn laughed, "And to think I was about to ask you the same question! I am wonderful and Andúnêiel is as well. And you, my Lady?"

"I am feeling much better now. Let me see this beautiful girl…" Arwen cooed, and leaned over to rub her nose against the child's before gently kissing her forehead. The girl giggled a happy little laugh and Arwen laughed too as the girl reached out her grasping hand and touched Arwen's cheek with it.

"I believe she only loves elves!" laughed Éowyn. "But please, do not let me keep you, Arwen. Catch up with Enguina. I hope you will bring her to dinner this evening; I would love for Faramir to meet her."

"Yes, of course!"

"You will come, Enguina?" Éowyn asked hopefully, looking over Arwen's shoulder to meet the elf's eyes.

Enguina laughed in reply. "I do not see how I could refuse such hopeful faces! Yes, I will join you; I would love to meet your husband, Éowyn." Éowyn smiled with happiness.

"Then good day, my ladies…I will see you both for dinner." Carrying her smiling child, she headed back between the bushes of roses.

"She is _wonderful_ , Arwen…she said she is the Stewardess. Is she of Gondor?" Enguina asked, taking a seat on the grey stone wall that surrounded the White Tree. She bent over to take in the smell of one of the blossoms, and smiled with delight. Arwen smiled after Éowyn and then moved to sit beside her friend.

"Éowyn is the White Lady and Shield-Maiden of Rohan, the land of the horse-lords, of which her brother Éomer is now King. She was once in love with my husband," she said with a laugh, "but Éowyn and I always have a good laugh about it! She married Faramir after the Great War and became Princess of Ithilien."

"She asked you if you were feeling well this morning, did she not? You could not have been ill," she stated, but confusion was in her voice for she knew that elves' bodies did not become sick, and she could not think why the woman would ask such a question.

"No, I have not been ill exactly," replied Arwen with a smile, "but I will tell all in good time. We have many other things to talk about before I get to that!" She reached out and grasped her hands. "Oh, words cannot express the happiness I feel because you are here!"

Enguina laughed. "I believe that much more has gone on in your life than it has mine in these past years, so I will begin the conversation with a subject that is most pressing to me, so intriguing that I cannot understand it."

"Agreed," said Arwen, squeezing her friend's hands. "What can I answer? What can I tell you?"

Enguina looked at her best friend closely. "You are so different than when I last saw you, Arwen! The last I spoke with you your eyes were bright and happy, but _never_ have they looked as they do now. There was a time when I had thought you would be forced to journey to the Undying Lands just as your mother had, and then when I returned to the Golden Wood, I found you the way you once were. Now, I look on you and I see nothing but delight! Your face is lit with happiness and your eyes shine with some untold wonder and love that I have never seen in you!

"My question is this," said Enguina, extending her hand about her, "how did this all come to be?" She stared at her in wonder. "Arwen, I do not mean it to sound like the curse that it is, but how in the name of Ilúvatar did you bind yourself to a _mortal_?" she sounded horrified, and Arwen looked a bit stunned by her words. Enguina shook her head, a bit embarrassed. "Forgive me, I did not mean for my words to come out like that. But…how could you give up a lifetime of peace in Valinor for a few simple years with someone who will not live longer than a…a mere _horse_ in our eyes? I am sorry if I offend you with my question, but Arwen you must understand how…how _strange_ this is to me! I, who have known you since…well, forever! I know that your father would never wish you to marry like this, and you were never one to outright disobey your father, so how did you become Queen over such simple folk?"

Arwen squeezed her hands again. "I am not offended by your question, dear friend. But the answer is simple—love."

"Love for what: the people or Middle-Earth? Did you not also love your father? I am certain that _he_ would have never approved of such a match," she said seriously, "for many reasons aside from the obvious one. And your mother…what would she think?"

"I love the people and Middle-Earth, Enguina, but they were not the reason I chose to remain, and of course I loved my father. But my future and the path into it was set by Ilúvatar, Enguina. Do you remember the time in Lórien when we spoke of what Eru had planned for our lives? _This_ was His plan for me: that I would leave behind my immortal life…and love a mortal. The love of one man, Enguina, made all the difference. It had the power to turn all of the judgments I would have made into the opposite decision." She sighed with a smile. "It still does."

"But how short a future! Arwen, how could one man, and a _mortal_ man at that, be worth so much more than an immortal life in Valinor? Could you not seek an Elvish man for yourself? I am certain there is at least _one_ you could find and deem worthy! Such short, passionate lives these mortals lead," she complained briefly. "I saw so many of them on the way into your City. They are so different from us!"

"Yes, they are different, and I am certain that Ada could have found me one worthy match in all of the elves that are in the world!" she laughed in reply. "But Enguina, you must understand, worthiness did not play a part in the beginning of this match, for when I met Aragorn among the birches in Imladris, he was but a child, merely twenty years of age. You were right when you worried of my father; it did matter to him. Aragorn had not yet been tested by a life of wandering in the world, yet he still captured my heart at our first meeting." She smiled at the memory. "It was over seventy years ago now; I was walking among the birches, having just returned from spending those many years with you and Grandmother. I heard his soft voice call to me: 'Tinúviel', and from that moment our hearts were bound, though I did not know it."

"He called you 'Tinúviel?'" she asked incredulously.

"I know, how strange it seems!" she laughed, shaking her head. "But when he first saw me dancing there, he told me that he thought I was her from the stories and descriptions he had read."

"How can you have known this was the path for you, Arwen? It could be wrong to love someone, can it not?" she asked, confused. She worried for her best friend; she, herself, had been in a position of inappropriate love before, and she was concerned Arwen had made a foolish choice.

"When Ilúvatar answers your prayers directly, Enguina, you do not question Him," she said with a smile. "You know this from your own experience; you have had prayers answered directly as well as I have. But at first, I did not desire to let myself feel it…I had never been in love, and so I hid it deep within, never knowing that it was there inside of me, that it could be real…

"Nearly thirty years passed, and I had thought of that young man many times, though I tried to convince myself that he would have changed so much that I would not know him if I glimpsed him again, for mortals change so quickly. I tried to convince myself that what I felt was nothing. As I look back now, I believe my heart was so heavy because I could not admit to myself that I loved him. But I kept praying that it would be revealed to me. And then I returned to Lothlórien to visit Grandmother again, and it was during all that time that you had tried to cheer me, remember? A shadow had fallen upon me and nothing would comfort me."

"I remember," Enguina replied sadly. "You were so _changed_ …so sad. You never sang, and the Lady was always advising me in ways to cheer you, but they never worked."

"Well, three and forty years ago, you journeyed to the Grey Havens with your parents; you returned six months later to find me in much better spirits. I had stayed in Lothlórien, of course, deliberating my fate. I had hoped to return laughter to my soul, but nothing helped me until…Aragorn came to the borders of the Golden Wood from journeying in toil against the Dark Lord in the lands of Gondor and Rohan. My Grandmother, who knew of his lineage to be the King of the Reunited Kingdoms, permitted him entrance." Her eyes strayed off into the garden as she remembered. "When I first saw him again, he was dressed in silver and white, a light grey cloak, and he looked more as an Elven lord and more than any kind of man. He had not known I was there at the time, and when he saw me, he sang to me, and my heart was opened again, though I cannot explain to you how. Aragorn _became_ my hope.

"I know it is difficult to understand, Enguina," she said, her eyes bright and eager, finally being able to tell her friend the most important tale of her life. "But Ilúvatar answered my prayer _directly_. The night he appeared there under the mallorns was the same night that I cried out to Eru…I begged Him to answer my prayer and bring me hope. For so long, I had prayed and it seemed He had not answered, but all along He was bringing precious hope to me during those thirty years. I heard his voice, and I knew that my prayers had been answered. When he reached out to me, and I touched his hand I _knew_ , Enguina…he was the direct answer to my prayer for hope." She laughed. "How much more of a cuff about the head does one require to see that their hope is in front of them when the man's childhood _name_ was 'hope' in our language?"

"This is all so strange to me…but how in all of Middle-Earth did you become bound to this man, even if He did place him in your path? Could you not simply become his friend?"

Arwen laughed and gently pushed her friend. "There is so much more to the story than that! He and I spent several weeks getting to know each other; he was there and you were gone for some time, remember. There was something about him that allowed me to be…well, myself, Enguina. When I was with him, I was free, and I loved it. The more time I spent with him, the more I knew…the more I could _feel_ that it was so _right_. I fell in love with him, and we spent so much time together that we soon became inseparable.

"It was not long after that when Aragorn was out within the Golden Wood with Haldir when they and their company were attacked by orcs. There were two hundred orcs…and all of them died under the bows and swords of your kin and my beloved. Haldir had despised him for long before the battle, but they returned good friends, though I do not know the details. They were the only two who survived, and their journey back to Lothlórien was hell for them both…they were severely wounded, both poisoned. Haldir collapsed a mile from the Great Gate…and Estel carried him to it," she said, and her eyes grew misty as she remembered the moment she had laid eyes upon him as he entered. She turned back to look at Enguina. "They both nearly died—"

"Haldir never told me _any_ of this! I never knew he was attacked by orcs!" she gasped. "I cannot _believe_ you hid all of this from me!"

"And it was not many days after that came the eve of Midsummer. That evening, he asked me to wed him…someday," she laughed softly, her eyes shining with great love and with tears, "and I pledged myself to him and him to me. I had never been happier than that moment, Enguina.

"My Father was angrier than I had ever seen him. Ada tried to convince me many-a time over the thirty years that came after that to release him and go to the Havens. He even tried to send me there once…" her voice drifted away as if in sudden memory, but she shook her head and returned her eyes to Enguina's, "but he came to realize that it was my choice, and he knew that there was no other who would take care of me as Aragorn has loved me. Never in all my days would I trade him for the Undying Lands, for my choice is one of love and promise. He is the best of men; brave, loyal, devoted…a servant of the people…and they love him. He is not without fault, surely, but there is no man that would be a more devoted and loving husband…and father." Enguina was unsure of what next to ask her friend; trying to absorb this story was as an avalanche crashing around her.

"So his name is Estel. How did he come by that name?"

"He was raised in Imladris by my own father, the heir of the Dunedain, Rangers of the North," Arwen replied with a smile. "He actually has had many names to be honest, but his given name is Aragorn, or, as his title in Gondor and Arnor—Elessar Telcontar, the Elfstone. He is the true King, and there is a great future full of peace for Middle-Earth with Aragorn on the throne." She smiled at her friend again. Enguina's eyes widened slightly as she had a sudden realization. "What is it?"

"So _this_ …Arwen, _this_ is what you had tried to tell me all those years ago. The day we were to meet…on…on Cerin Amroth." It was difficult for Enguina to speak the words, but Arwen nodded gently.

"I never wished to keep it a secret from you, and a secret such as that was _extremely_ difficult to hide when I was so bursting with joy. I desired to tell you so badly…but it just…it seemed so wrong at the time to speak of my love when you had only just…" she hesitated, "lost your own. I did not think that it was the right time to speak of my love for him."

"Let us not speak of that time right now," Enguina said softly, and so Arwen continued, her voice softer now.

"I cannot wait for dinner this evening so that you will meet him, for he is beyond any man; and I am most assured you that you will love him, for all who meet him pledge him their allegiance!" she declared with a laugh. "I believe Faramir told me this morning that Legolas and Gimli will be coming too, so you will get to meet them as well."

"Who are these men you now speak of? Éowyn spoke to me of her husband, Faramir, but who are these other men?" Arwen smiled fondly.

"Legolas is King Thranduil's son, the elf-prince of Eryn Lasgalen; he fought alongside Aragorn throughout the War of the Ring. He was one of the nine who set out from Imladris after the Council, and he has also been my friend since childhood."

"Since childhood?" queried Enguina, intrigued. "Longer than me? Longer than Erumar?"

Arwen laughed suddenly. "Well, longer than you, yes, but Erumar, no."

"Why have you never spoken of him?"

"I do not know!" Arwen laughed with a shrug of her shoulders. "No cause before? Let me answer your question and then I will tell you what I can! Gimli is the son of Gloín, and he and Legolas have been good companions for the past few years. He was also one of the nine walkers, and is a very good friend to us. He and his kinfolk are rebuilding the walls surrounding the White City after they were broken down and set ablaze during the Battle of the Pelennor. Legolas and his kin have supplied the beauty of the new gardens that you see. I am… _very_ certain that you will adore them as much as I do." She gently pushed Enguina's shoulder and smiled. " _Legolas_ is quite handsome."

Enguina pushed _her_ back gently and stood. "I am afraid he will have to look elsewhere!" Arwen noticed immediately that though Enguina was trying to smile, she was not joking. Her arms came across her chest, and to Arwen they seemed quite defensive. "I am not looking," she stated.

Arwen folded her hands in her lap, and raised an eyebrow. "Is there something you are not telling me, friend?" she said softly, misunderstanding her on purpose. "You did not say that _you_ had bound yourself to a man. Tell me what his name may be, for he must be someone of great worth if you are not to have any interest in Legolas. You have always had an eye for a good-looking face." She was teasing her, but Enguina was frowning deeply at her.

"I have grown…very _tired_ of men, Arwen."

"Enguina…" she said softly.

"I mean what I speak!" she stated, her voice hard, though behind it was a dam of emotion. Arwen looked at her with eyes full of compassion. "Arwen, those many years ago, after you had left Lórien, I…I _tried_ to do what you asked of me. But I could _not_ do so. I could not even…" she hesitated and then shook her head, "oh, forget it…"

"No, I will not forget it," Arwen said, rising from her seat on the stone. "Tell me what brings your sorrow, Enguina." She felt her head go dizzy for a moment, and she knew that she rose too fast. She reached over and grabbed the nearest branch on the tree, and Enguina returned to her side immediately.

"What is it?" she asked, concern spreading across her features. Arwen's eyes were closed for a moment, but when she opened them, she seemed fine again and gave a soft laugh.

"It is all right…we will speak of it in a moment…for now we are speaking of you. Tell me what it is that brought you such sorrow when I was away. Tell me what you are embarrassed to speak of." Enguina looked confused for a moment.

"Arwen, tell me what—"

" _Tell me_ ," she said, her concern enough to draw Enguina back to the conversation they had been having. She felt rather compelled to answer Arwen's question.

"I…I cannot be alone with a man," she said looking down as she began to wring her hands. Arwen watched her closely. "I am too _nervous_ …and I find myself with a very short temper. I am edgy in their presence, frustrated, defensive, even…frightened."

"What is this?" Arwen asked, startled, reaching out to take Enguina's hands and still them. "That is not a habit you had before, and I know you very well."

Enguina shook her head and gave a sigh. "It is a habit that I have developed from my _disquiet_. Arwen, I am not the same as I had been when you knew me those years ago. I have changed…and not for the better"

Arwen looked at her gently. "Have you prayed about it?" Frustration swept across the older elf's face and she sighed, tugging her hands out of Arwen's and laying them back in her lap.

"Is that your solution to everything?" she asked touchily, and Arwen frowned at her.

"You _know_ it is…and it was yours as well. Have you…have you lost your faith, Enguina?" she asked, concerned for her friend.

Enguina frowned. "Not…not really, or I should say, not completely," she replied rather guiltily. "I simply do not think that Ilúvatar answers prayers like this…though your story could have convinced me otherwise. But it may be there are only certain people that He chooses to answer."

"You do not really believe that," Arwen stated, taking in her friend and her words. Worry was written all over her face; Enguina _was_ different and right about being changed.

"I have prayed for _so long_ , Arwen," she sighed, "and my prayers have not been answered. It has been nearly thirty years since you left…and I have been praying since then. I need courage—"

"Courage? You journeyed here, on horseback across strange lands, completely alone! Has he not granted it to you?"

She sighed again, this time with frustration. "Arwen…I have been praying for _love_ …for something to show me that my life has been worth living this long. What is the point of my being here? You know, or you _said_ that you know, your path was to remain here with this Aragorn. Honestly, how am I supposed to know what _mine_ is? Surely, you know what I _thought_ it was…and look at how that turned out!"

"But Ilúvatar _uses_ our tests and trials for _good_ , Enguina. You know this…even you said so yourself days after Bra—" Enguina covered her ears quickly, a pained look on her face.

"Do not sayhis _name_ , Arwen…please! It is bad enough without your speaking of it!" Enguina's eyes filled with tears, and she turned away. Arwen slowly wrapped her arms around her from behind, tugging Enguina's back to her chest.

"You will have to turn and stand against this one day, Enguina…you cannot run forever. You _must_ know that not every man is as he was to you. Not every man will hurt you as he did."

Enguina shook her head. "I _do_ know that…but when I see a man, it is what I think of, and my mind will not allow me to see otherwise. My dreams…sometimes they are so dark. I cannot bring myself out of the pit I find myself sinking in." She felt Arwen's arms hold her more tightly and she sighed, resting her hands on the younger elf's arms. "Oh, Arwen…how I have longed for what you have! How I had seen Erumar and Haldir in love for so long, and even the Lord and the Lady…how I have _longed_ for it. Now…now I do not think that I could even _think_ of it after being in such a state for so long." She turned back and Arwen had to loosen her arms so she could look in her eyes. "No," she whispered, "I will not be binding myself to any man; I am going to travel to Valinor." Arwen's eyes changed and she frowned.

"Valinor?" She was shocked to hear the word from Enguina's mouth. "So soon?"

"'Soon,' you say? I thought that my journey, when I left Lórien, would simply take me back to the Havens, but instead, I thought of you. When I heard them mention your name in Lórien, I knew that I had to come to you and see what you had done. The Sea calls me often…and more and more do I desire to return to the Havens and look upon their beauty once more…perhaps forever. You are so near to the Sea…does it not call you?"

Arwen sighed softly and looked off at the City walls. "Sometimes, when I am riding Asfaloth near the shores of the Anduin, I imagine myself sailing on a ship into its waters and out to the sea…but I cannot imagine myself happy. My heart calls me more often, and that heart is Aragorn. I cannot imagine myself anywhere but here in the arms of my beloved…do you understand, Enguina?"

"Yes…" she said softly, and she saw Arwen smile at her.

"And beside…it matters little whether the sea calls to me or no. I cannot go there; I have sacrificed that life, Enguina. Here will I forever dwell."

Enguina stared at her, suddenly remembering that Arwen would now never journey to the Havens; she had pledged her life to a mortal, and so had given up her immortal life. "I must meet this man that you call husband; I must see what sort of man you have chosen for yourself, who and what you have given your life up for. He must be awfully special—for a mortal."

Arwen laughed. "You should give men a chance! Most of them are pleasant, good, and extremely loyal. Éowyn's brother is such a man and so is her husband. How long will you stay here with us?"

"Some time, I think," Enguina replied softly. "I have no plans, Arwen, save one. I came to visit you and see what you were about, and then journey to the Havens."

"Come, you _must_ go through the City with me," Arwen said, tugging her hand and pulling her to her feet. "I do have a few errands I must run today, and we can walk and chat as easily as we can here." Her eyes widened suddenly and she laughed. "How silly I am! I have forgotten my most important news!"

"Important news? What news?"

"I must tell you before you hear it from any of the townspeople; you would be _very_ cross, for I am certain that they shall ask. Éowyn asked if I was well, and you saw the dizzy spell that I had. I am not ill, my wonderful friend." She reached out and took Enguina's hands, tears in her eyes. If Enguina had not known that it was good news from the delight on Arwen's face she would have broken into tears.

"What? What is it? Arwen, by Ilúvatar, you _must_ tell me! There shall be no more secrets between us, not _ever_! _Tell me_."

"Aragorn and I are going to have a baby," she replied, delight written on her every feature. "I am with _child_!"

Enguina stared into her face and then her eyes darted to Arwen's stomach; she suddenly noticed what she had been missing simply by not studying her friend. Her mouth dropped open and she squealed.

"Ilúvatar!" she cried, and then laughed with delight. She threw her arms about Arwen and hugged her hard. "A child! This shall be the first child of the elves in many years, Arwen! The first of a new generation! No children have been born for _so many years_! How _wonderful_!" Then she sighed, releasing her. "Of course…he shall only be _half_ -half-Elven," she said with a giggle, and Arwen laughed out loud, "for _you_ had to go and marry a _man_!"

"Yes, Enguina, but the child shall be born of a great bloodline. The expectations are great, but we…we are unbelievably blessed."

"And this man, this mortal you love and adore, is he excited as well?"

" _Excited?_ " she laughed. "You have no idea! Aragorn is going to be the most amazing father if he is as attentive as a father as he is as a husband."

"How far along are you?" she asked eagerly. "How much longer do you have? When is the child due?"

"I am nearly six months along, and due in early April."

" _Five months_?" she gasped, reaching out and laying her hands upon her womb. "Ilúvatar in Heaven…why did you not send word to Lothlórien? I would have come sooner!"

Arwen smiled and touched the hands of her friend. "You are here now. Come with me, Enguina, and see a little of Minas Tirith. Perhaps you shall find something that shall make you wish to stay and your life worthwhile."

"You could be right," she admitted, but with a sigh. Arwen could tell she was weary. "Let me see what it is about these people that you seem to adore so much."


	3. Chapter 3

Aragorn was fairly quiet as he sat in his usual seat of the conference chamber. This meeting, which was not _supposed_ to be taking nearly this long, was not as unexciting as he had thought it would be but certainly through his own knowledge and experience he knew he could have found something better to be doing. Right about now, he _should_ have been sitting down to have dinner with his wife and 'extended family.' He smiled at the thought, and hunger stirred within him, both for the food and the fellowship.

Out the opposite window of the chamber the sun was almost set, but he could see Legolas coming quickly from the opening from the sixth level. It made him curious and inquisitive. _Where the devil has he been?_ He wondered at the fact that dinner should probably have started by now and the fact that Legolas was not there yet surprised him. He made a note to ask his friend of it later, and that was when the turn of conversation in the room returned him to the subject at hand…even if not for long.

The gentlemen before him were good men, though they were not all his friends. He knew their hearts well, and his faith in them was well placed. If something ever were to happen to him, he had many competent men that were left to help the Queen and take care of her. _Arwen…_ His thoughts drifted to her and the sweet babe that she bore within her most precious form. How wonderful of Eru to bestow such a blessing upon them that they might hold a child of their making! Each time he thought of it he could burst into song, and that would not have amused those at the council at that moment. If they even _knew_ that he was _so unfocused_ …

For one reason or another, he found his mind drifting back to the young Elven woman he had met in the first rays of light that very morning. He found it strange that an elf from Lórien would have traveled this far alone; she must have come to see someone within the City. Why else would she be here? The thought intrigued him; she must have come to see either Arwen or Legolas.

How wonderful it would be if she were a friend of Legolas! Aragorn had thought for some time now that the elf was in need of a lady companion, and this Elven lady seemed more than adequate for that position. There was something about her that made him believe this, though he knew very little about her aside from her fire. If she was Arwen's friend, then surely such a situation would be even more of a welcoming thought to him, for then Arwen could introduce the two and they would make a wonderful pair.

He could have laughed at himself. Here he was, in the middle of a conference, and he was _matchmaking_! How wrong was that? His attention turned back to the meeting for a moment, simply out of guilt. From the turn of conversation, he realized they were going to be present there for quite some time. He sighed softly. Well, if the Elven woman had been at dinner tonight, his opportunity of meeting her this evening was fading fairly quickly. He would miss dinner once more…Arwen disliked when he missed meals. She would also be unhappy that he was not present to meet her friend, and he was sorely disappointed about that as well. He wished for an opportunity to replace her impression of him from that morning. He sighed, sullen about his situation.

Obviously, _this_ would not be the night.

* * *

Arwen led Enguina into the dining area of the King's House. Both had a wonderful day going about the City and visiting the people Arwen had chosen. All of those who met Enguina were pleased to have another of the Elven kindred about them, and they were delighted that there was another so charming as Legolas. Enguina had just told Arwen an amusing story from Lothlórien, so the two entered into her home laughing.

Legolas, who had arrived at the House just in time _not_ to be late, locked his eyes immediately upon Enguina. She was _indeed_ the Elven woman he had seen enter Minas Tirith this morning, and the closer she came the more Legolas realized how beautiful she was. Long flowing golden hair, bright green eyes, and one of the sunniest smiles he had ever seen in his entire lifetime. She was beyond anything that he had ever seen, if he were to be honest with himself, and Legolas could just imagine what a beautiful name she had to go with that smile. Gimli thought she was rather beautiful as well, and though he did not believe more so than the Morning or the Evening, she must have run a very close third, for she would be the Dawn. As they settled into the dining area, Enguina appeared a bit taken aback, staring at Éowyn rummaging around in Arwen's kitchen. Arwen looked over at her.

"What is wrong, Enguina?" she asked softly, and the older elf looked at her, a little confused.

"Arwen, is this not _your_ home?"

"Well, yes of course it is!"

"What are they doing here already?" she whispered, and Arwen softly laughed at her.

"Éowyn and I spoke of this last evening! We always have dinner together in my home, and Éowyn is a wonderful cook. Because I had to go visiting among the people today, we had agreed that she would cook tonight." Enguina blushed slightly and nodded. "It is all right, Enguina. How were you to know such things?"

Faramir rose to his feet, as he had been seated at the table, and moved forward to greet Enguina. Arwen assumed Éowyn must have already spoken with Faramir about their guest. He bowed to the Queen, and she glared at him. "Good evening, your Highness," he said softly, and she gave him a look.

"Faramir, you know how much I despise it when you do that."

He gave him a devilish grin. "Indeed, my dear."

"Then when I have Aragorn throw you out of our House, you shall know what for?"

He only smiled at her, and then turned to Enguina and extended a hand to her. "Welcome to the realm of Gondor, my Lady," he began. "You met my wife earlier today; I am Faramir, and it is a pleasure to have any friend of the Lady Arwen stay among us. I trust that your quarters are comfortable?"

"How kind of you, my Lord, and yes, they are very lovely. Arwen was nice enough to show them to me this morning as we walked through your Citadel. I am Enguina, a friend of Arwen's from childhood in Lothlórien. I daresay that your City is very beautiful, and I see that my friend is well taken care of. Thank you for doing so, my Lord."

Faramir laughed softly and blushed. He glanced at Arwen and then back to Enguina. "Please, Lady, call me only Faramir…the title was granted as a gift of the King, and I do not wish to be known by it. If you so desire, you may call me Captain, though I would much prefer Faramir. After all, it is what I am known by to my friends, and I hope, since you will be staying for some time, that we shall become friends." He smiled at her and kissed her hand. "And, dear Lady, I assure you that Arwen is no trouble at all. After all, women in these times can very much defend themselves."

Arwen laughed and touched Faramir's shoulder lovingly. "Come now, Faramir, she will get the wrong impression of me after all the years."

"All the more reason for her to hear the truth," he stated, but with a smile.

"Please, I already know you can handle yourself," Enguina muttered, rolling her eyes.

Faramir leaned conspiratorially near to Enguina. "She _can_ certainly use a sword, I shall tell you that much. As another example of this same principle, take my own wife," he laughed softly, nodding toward Éowyn, "who can handle nearly anything thrown at her without my help," he whispered quickly.

"Faramir, what are you telling her over there?" Éowyn called from the stew she was making without turning her back. "Is it nice to talk of your wife when she is not there to defend herself?" Faramir shrugged and smiled as she then turned towards them, her hands on her hips and a wooden spoon in her right hand.

"Nothing you would not approve of, dearest; I can assure you of that." Éowyn looked at Enguina, and the elf shook her head in return.

"I am afraid that _I_ cannot assure you of that," the elf stated with a gentle laugh. Éowyn raised an eyebrow at Faramir and moved forward to stand in front of him. Enguina nearly laughed when she saw that Faramir looked nervous. The woman's hands still remained on her hips.

"What did you tell her of me, Faramir?"

He sighed. "I told you, 'nothing that you would not approve of, dearest.' I simply told her that you were very capable of taking care of yourself…and surely, you are."

She smacked his shoulder with the spoon, and he rubbed it, laughing. "Do not talk to my new friends of me!" she said, but she had a very difficult time of playing the angry one. "When Aragorn arrives, I shall have him toss you out on your backside!"

Faramir laughed, and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Is everyone going to have me thrown out of here this evening?"

Arwen laughed softly. "It seems that way."

"And, Faramir, if I had not gone to war then what would have led me to you?" asked Éowyn, crossing her arms across her chest. "Besides, I thought that you enjoyed my rough hands and stubborn character." He kissed her cheek.

"I never said anything that was different," he said with a smile. "Come, let us make certain that dinner is done so that our family can eat." He looped an arm about her waist and the two of them went towards the pot of boiling stew. Faramir's arm went from her waist and he moved quickly to the pot. " _Gimli_! Get away from that!" Enguina could not see who he was speaking to, for Faramir blocked her view, but she smiled anyway. Arwen took her arm, leading her towards the corner of the room where Legolas now stood alone for Gimli had left him to attack the soup.

"I would like you to meet another of my very old friends, Enguina," said Arwen as she pulled her gently over. "This is Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen—"

Enguina's eyes fell upon Legolas for the first time and her ears stopped their functioning and heard nothing more of what Arwen said of him. She was reading into him on her own. His blue eyes met hers and surprised her with their intensity, but they held things that were not as intense. They were…gentle and calm. They were unlike any eyes she had ever seen. His smile was peaceful, as if he was in the most soothing place of his life. She found herself envious of that peace…where had he found it? He appeared very athletic and lithe, but that was no wonder…he was an elf, and he had done much traveling, even more than Arwen had. But she felt something stir within her as the elf reached for her hand, and it made her nervous.

He bowed over her hand, and then rose back up, his posture perfect. "Welcome to the White City, my Lady," he said softly in his light voice. "How wonderful it is to meet an old friend of Arwen's. Surely, if there is anything I might do for you, please do not hesitate to ask it of me. I am at your Lady's service."

She gave him a very reserved smile, and it surprised Legolas, for it was a response that he had not expected with the warm welcome he had given her. But there was something else about her that was elusive, and he knew it must be the reason for her aloofness. Her eyes told of great hurt, and sorrow…she was holding something within her that she was not about to let out, and it seemed that she was not about to be overly welcoming very soon. He gently released her hand, though it seemed she did have trouble taking her eyes from his. Arwen caught his eye, but he could read nothing on her face except her gentle smile.

"I thank you for your welcome, Prince Legolas." He gave her a smile, and bowed his head. She watched his hands carefully as he moved them, but he clasped them behind his back.

"I beg of you to call me Legolas," he laughed softly. "I neither use, nor own, the title of Prince." He turned at the sound of Faramir's voice calling to them from the table. "It would appear that dinner is now served," he said, and turned back to Enguina. "Would you permit me to escort you to the table, my Lady?"

Enguina cast the slightest questioning glance in Arwen's direction, but the one she received in return was _very_ clear. _GO_! "Thank you," she said softly, and he simply walked beside her, Arwen following half a step behind them. Enguina made certain she knew where Arwen was, and kept her in her sight as Legolas pulled out the seat beside Éowyn's chair.

Arwen was pleased that Legolas had taken a liking to Enguina already, but she also could tell by the elf's movements that he was being very cautious. He had seen something in Enguina that was both anxious and nervous…and he had made the right choices so far as to counter it.

Legolas had already shown Enguina to a seat next to Éowyn's and he took his usual place two seats down from the right of Arwen, on the right of Gimli. Arwen took her seat, which was normally at Aragorn's right except he was not yet present, and Faramir sat across from her on what would be Aragorn's left. Gimli took his seat between Arwen and Legolas, and Éowyn, having set a high chair for Andúnêiel between her and Faramir, took hers as well. The dwarf leaned slowly over towards Arwen and smiled.

"Éowyn's cooking's _delicious_ this evening," he laughed, and Arwen gave him a smile.

"Were you hungry, Master Dwarf?"

He nodded and laughed. "Of course! Is there a time when a dwarf couldn't eat? She's doing much better lately with the cooking." Arwen smiled, and then Gimli sighed and nodded backwards toward Legolas. "I suppose the lad will forget I exist now that he's found a lady to court. She hasn't yet noticed me."

"Nay, dear Gimli, Legolas shall not forget you," said Arwen with a smile. "Do I forget you when Aragorn enters the room?"

"No, but—"

"Then do not fear! I assure you that Enguina is harmless. I promise that you will enjoy her company as much as Legolas in time, and she shall notice you soon enough. I am sorry that I was not able to introduce you both before dinner." Gimli shrugged.

"That's quite all right. As you said, she'll see me soon enough. I have nothing against her, Lady Arwen, for she's quite beautiful, though not so fair as the Lady of the Golden Wood." Arwen smiled and placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "All Elves are beautiful…" he said with a laugh. "Not sure if it's possible to have an unsightly one!"

"You amuse me so, Gimli!" she replied, laughing.

"It is she, Gimli!" Gimli heard a whisper in his other ear. The dwarf smiled in return.

"I can see that, laddy. She is beautiful as you said."

"But she is not Galadriel; am I correct my friend?" grinned Legolas.

"Ah…you know me too well, elf." Gimli winked at him.

The table was quiet for a few moments, and then Arwen cleared her throat.

"Do any one of you have an idea where Aragorn might be? I do not suppose he has mentioned to anyone what would delay him this evening," she asked, refusing to get worried. It was not the first time he had been late for dinner, and often, he did skip meals; she only wished that he would tell others when he planned to take side-trips. Then, she would not feel a need to worry; she would know for certain that he would be home eventually. To Enguina, Arwen did not seem worried, but she assumed that her friend was anyway.

Legolas shook his head with a frown. "I do not know, Arwen. I caught a glimpse of him this morning when he was with Faramir and then I saw him briefly this afternoon, but he made no mention of the business he was attending to."

"I am nearly certain that he remains within the conference chambers still," replied Faramir. "There was another meeting today, and even if he has been released from them, perhaps he stopped to talk to some of the people and he is on his way here this very moment."

Éowyn laughed. "Reasonably, he is caught up doing something and has completely forgotten about dinner altogether." She turned and leaned towards toward Enguina. "Kings are the busiest of men, especially when they are as involved with the people as Aragorn," she whispered. "There are nights when our husbands do not return for dinner."

"Though we _do_ constantly _try_ ," Faramir insisted, trying to defend both himself and Aragorn. "We simply get busy and—"

"Forget where you are; we _know_ ," replied Arwen with a laugh. "Of course, Faramir, and we do not lay blame for such things."

Gimli nodded. "'Tis true, Arwen. The lad has most likely stopped and will miss dinner. Perhaps we should just eat before all this good food goes to waste when it gets cold. To think of how much slaving Lady Éowyn did over the preparation of this meal…it makes my heart sick to think it of it going to waste."

When Gimli spoke, it was the first time Enguina noticed him. She was taken aback by the idea that the dwarf was seated with them, mainly just for the fact that he was a dwarf. Personally, she had nothing against him, for she did not know him at all, however, there had always been trouble between the dwarves and elves since…well, as long as she could remember.

Legolas and Faramir both groaned. "Gimli," said Legolas dryly, "I do believe that the only thing you think of is food."

"I agree," added Faramir, "and second, Éowyn really did _not_ slave over this meal."

"But Gimli is right," agreed Éowyn, "we might as well start eating. If we decide to wait for him, we could very well be here all evening. And we all are hungry as well."

So _this_ was Gimli, the trusted companion of both the King and Legolas. Obviously, those around the table knew him well, but how an elf and a dwarf had struck up a friendship she could not understand. And Arwen; Arwen had never told her that the son of Gloín was a _dwarf_! And they sat next to each other and seemed to joke as though they were good friends! She could not understand it, for she found it difficult to accept their friendship when all she knew was based upon hundreds of years of prejudice.

"All right then," sighed Faramir, extending his hands to take Éowyn's and Arwen's across the table. "Who is going to say the blessing this evening?" Around the table, the group began to take one another's hands, and slowly Legolas extended his across the table.

"Permit me?" he asked softly, giving her the opportunity to refuse him if she so desired. She looked at his hand for a moment, wondering if she _could_ refuse such a gesture. _We shall be in prayer…nothing can happen simply by taking his hand._ She reached hers out and placed it within his, and he bowed his head, closing his eyes.

"I shall," said Arwen, and she bowed her head as well. "Father, we thank You for bringing us here together tonight under one roof to have dinner together as a family. We thank You for bringing Enguina here safely to visit us, and we pray that You will bring Aragorn home to join our fellowship again soon. Please keep us safe for the coming night, and bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies. In Your name we ask these things; Amen."

They released hands, and it surprised Enguina when she thought of how cold her hand felt when she rested it upon the table to lift her fork. Legolas' hand had been warm…and gentle—she shook her head slightly, knocking any such thoughts from her mind altogether. After they began eating, Legolas spoke first.

"I have an amusing tale to tell," he said with a smile. "It begins as Gimli and I were helping to build the wall today—"

"If this is the tale _I'm_ thinking of, perhaps we should have them stop eating before you tell it," interrupted Gimli a bit grumpily as he stared hard at his plate, a blush reaching his cheeks.

Faramir raised his eyebrows as Arwen did the same. "Do tell, Legolas," he stated.

Legolas smiled. "Very well. The dwarves were moving a large pile of stone nearer to the wall, and they pulled one off the bottom. Naturally, the entire pile began to collapse. Gimli, who was standing too near the stone, did not hear the calls of his kindred, and just as the pile was toppling over on him, I _snatched_ him—"

Faramir burst out laughing, hitting the table with his fist. "No… _no_ …" Enguina nearly had jumped at the bang, for it was unexpected. She heard Andúnêiel laugh with her father, and Enguina looked at him, completely not understanding what was so humorous. Arwen and Éowyn both had big smiles as well, for they had a feeling they knew what was coming, and Arwen shook her head. Enguina looked at Legolas, expecting the thing that was amusing to come soon. The elf grinned hugely to the table, and Gimli covered his face.

"Yes…that is right, Faramir…I grabbed him—"

"By the beard!" Faramir and Legolas laughed at the same time. The table burst into laughter. Enguina looked sort of confused, unsure why it was so amusing. Perhaps, dwarves were picky about their beards as well as other things they were stingy and annoying about…

"But the elf did not tell the whole story," grumbled Gimli. "He did not tell you how far away he was when the danger occurred. He was up on top of the wall, and the lad nearly killed himself trying to get to me. Nearly broke his neck or something." Legolas shook his head.

"It was not that daring of a rescue, my friend." He sighed when Gimli gave him an 'oh really?' look. "Let us leave it then, since we cannot agree; we were both covered with dust and looked like we had been playing in soot most of the morning." Legolas smiled and placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "What was I supposed to do? Allow you to be crushed? I do not believe that would ever be an option." Gimli smiled at him.

"Yes…I suppose you _do_ owe me from a certain _other_ incident—"

Legolas eyes grew narrow and they silenced the dwarf as he smirked. He turned back to his food with a snort of a laugh, and Arwen smiled at Legolas. Enguina wondered at the 'incident' to which the dwarf was referring, but found herself surprised at her own shyness. There was another break in conversation as most of them tried to think of other amusing tales to tell until Aragorn arrived.

Faramir looked down the table towards Enguina. "I hope your journey to our land was safe," he said, loud enough so he could ensure that she heard him.

Enguina smiled. "It was pleasant except for a few problems with my horse," she laughed slightly, shaking her head at the madness of it. "Although they seem to be worked out as of this morning," she stated, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Oh?" asked Arwen, thinking that Aragorn might be able to help her with it. He was better than 'good' with horses. "What was the trouble?" Enguina shook her head again.

"This is such a strange story! Within sight of the gate, my black tried to throw me to the ground; I was not injured. He had done this same act several times previous to that time. Then, a stranger rode up to me as I was there in the dust and 'spoke' to my horse. The man was obviously from Gondor, but I do say that you have some strange folk living among you!" she said with another laugh. "He claimed that my horse told him he did not like the name I was calling him by and that he would appreciate my calling him what the horse _wished_ to be called when I spoke to him. How _absurd_! What type of person would insult someone they just met by saying I had called my horse something 'feminine'! This, of course, was not true! I can assure you that I _do_ know the difference between stallion and mare!" she said, rolling her eyes again.

Those seated around the table laughed. "Yes," replied Faramir with a grin, "we _do_ have some strange sorts living here in Gondor. Surely you had some of those living among you as well." Enguina laughed with him, and nodded slightly.

"Indeed, but none that claimed they could understand animals' speech! Then he proceeded to talk to his own horses as if they understood and could truly reply to him, which was rather…startling to see." Arwen laughed. "Well, it is not as if beasts have mouths and can speak back, and this man acted as if he could speak with them and interpret the sounds they made as if it were another dialect; if he was perhaps an elf, I might have believed it, but a man?" She shook her head. "Forgive me, but it is impossible. I found it all rather ill-mannered…I certainly hope he learns better conduct and soon. I doubt that I shall ever see him again."

Faramir laughed. "I certainly hope you should not have to! He seems such an odd sort for a lady such as you. Simply stay away from the Pelennor!" He laughed with her again.

Legolas was the only one who did not laugh, for he had an odd feeling that Enguina was referring to someone whom he knew very well…and could very _well_ understand the language of horses. He only shook his head and wondered what Aragorn could have said to offend her so much, especially when Aragorn was usually kind to strangers…no matter whom they were. Obviously, Enguina had not known who he was, and Aragorn must not have told her. He smiled ruefully; as if Aragorn ever _would_. He would hide the fact of his Kingship from others until his last breath if it meant less admiration…if it truly was Aragorn in any case and not some trickster as she had assumed.

As they were preparing for dessert, and Aragorn had still not come, Legolas found himself gathering his courage. He had never felt awkward around a woman before, but this was different; he knew it in his heart. Legolas turned his face toward Enguina and smiled gently at her. He had no idea what her response would be to what he was about to ask.

"Do you have plans for tomorrow, my Lady?" She lifted her head to look at him as Éowyn set down the dessert plate in front of her.

"I…I think that perhaps I will be with Arwen, my Lord," she replied softly. Arwen smiled at her plate, but she had a feeling she knew what Enguina's answer would be if Legolas pursued for another day. She reached up to take the plate from Éowyn. A hurried conversation was all it took as Legolas asked his next question.

"Might I offer to show you about the White City at some time during your stay here? The market will be bustling on Wednesday, and it shall be the best time to attend," he continued.

" _Éowyn…say that you will go with them,_ " Arwen whispered this quickly to her friend, and though she was confused, Éowyn nodded and did not reply, for she knew Enguina would probably hear _her_ whisper, for an elf's hearing was extremely sharp.

"I…well…" Enguina replied, looking into his bright eyes. Legolas smiled encouragingly at her, and she looked away towards Arwen who was now looking at them.

"I believe," Arwen said with a smile, "that Enguina and I will be busy together the next two days at least." She could see the relief on Enguina's face, and then she continued, "But going to the market on Wednesday sounds like a lovely idea, though I will not be able to attend myself. I think you should definitely go." Enguina stared at her, speechless.

"If my hearing has not completely gone, I think I just heard the offer of an outing into the City..." interrupted Éowyn, and Legolas turned his head towards her and smiled.

"Indeed, I was just asking the Lady if we might show her around in two days."

Éowyn smiled and reached out and touched Enguina's arm. "That is a wonderful idea! Might I come as well? I have been meaning to take a trip to the market place and see the wares. It is a really interesting place, and you have probably never seen anything like it."

Legolas grinned and made a reminder for himself to give Éowyn the largest hug she had ever received when he found her after dinner. "Surely, it would be a wonderful place to go, and Éowyn knows the market very well." Both of them looked to Enguina.

"Please say that you will let us show you about Minas Tirith. And Andúnêiel shall come as well!" Éowyn said eagerly. Enguina glanced to Arwen and saw reassurance on her face, and then the elf hesitatingly smiled at both Éowyn and Legolas.

"I cannot refuse if Andúnêiel is coming," she said with a gentle laugh. Legolas smiled and felt a fire light in his chest. Here was a chance to let her grow accustomed to his friendship. He was thrilled at the chance to allow her to get to know him, and he thanked Eru with his next thought. "Thank you both for the invitation," Enguina finished softly.

"We are delighted to give you a tour of anything Arwen will not have time to show you. It would be our pleasure," Legolas said with a smile, and beside him, Gimli winked at Arwen. Arwen smiled back at him, thinking of how wonderful the two of them could be together if Enguina let herself take a chance. Enguina noticed how Legolas' smile lit every one of his features. It made _her_ want to smile just to see the truth of the delight on his face.

"The pleasure is all mine," she replied softly, and her smile reached his heart.

* * *

"I suppose tonight shall not be the night when I meet this _mysterious_ King…your supposed husband. Does the man even exist? Or is he simply a glorified figment of all of your collective imaginations?"

Arwen laughed softly as she walked with Enguina, but her friend had a smile upon her face. They were headed to the guesthouse down the street; it was the place Enguina would be staying. They walked slowly, for they wished to prolong the conversation a little longer from dinner, and though Enguina was very tired, she felt very reluctant to leave the side of her friend.

"Trust me, dear friend…he exists just as you and I exist and are walking and talking."

"Does he often leave you on your own for the supper and evening hours?"

Arwen could hear a slight tone in Enguina's voice that she was a bit worried about. Was it that Enguina was already irritated with her husband? Was she simply concerned for Arwen's happiness? She was uncertain of the reason. "Well…I am certainly not _alone_ the way you mean it, Enguina. Aragorn returns as soon as he can. He is…very busy, and must make time for many things, just as I—"

"Except his wife?" she asked softly, without thinking, and as soon as Arwen looked at her sharply she winced, knowing that what she had said had hurt her friend. Arwen stopped walking, and simply looked at her with her eyebrows raised. "I did not mean—"

"You do not _know_ him, Enguina," she pointed out, determined in her mind that her friend had merely spoken without thought. "You do not see the tenderness in his eyes or the hurt he feels when he has not come home in time enough that he believes would please me. You do not seem to understand the long struggle we have had to spend even this time together," she replied, her voice growing softer, and then she smiled, "but you will. When you meet him, you will understand all of these things and more…and you shall come to love him in your own way, as all do."

Enguina raised her eyebrows. "You are so confident of this."

"That I am."

"Perhaps I shall think him a scoundrel—"

"You already do," Arwen pointed out, and Enguina laughed softly, "and you do not yet know him!" Arwen laughed as well and then began walking again. "You are fond of Faramir, are you not? You both seemed to find one another as fast friends."

Enguina smiled. "He seems nice enough…and he is already attached."

Arwen laughed at her, and gave her a gentle shove. "Well, Aragorn is both of those things and more…you need not worry about that! And since we are speaking of _meetings_ —"

"Before you ask it, I must ask _you_ something. What part did you have in the Prince asking me to have a sight about the City?" she asked, looking hard into Arwen's face, her hands now on her hips.

Arwen shrugged without guilt. "I had no part in it at all whatsoever. Legolas asked you of his own volition; I had nothing to do with it."

"What about the Lady Éowyn's _convenient_ interruption?"

Arwen frowned gently at her. "I had a feeling that you would not consent to go alone with him…I knew that Éowyn's days are generally unfilled, and she so loves the market—"

" _Arwen_!" Enguina reached out and hit her friend in the shoulder. "How could you take advantage of me like that?"

Arwen frowned at her and sighed. "I did not 'take advantage of you' as you speak; I did what I thought was best for you!"

Enguina scoffed at her, "And you know what is best for me?"

Arwen gave her a wry smiled. "I do try. And who _better_ to see the City with than one of your own kindred…and someone you like?"

"Who said I _like_ him?"

Arwen rolled her eyes. "Honestly? It was hard not to see you glancing at him over and over—making eyes at him—all dinner long."

"I most certainly was _not_ 'making eyes' at him! _Shame_ on you!" she cried, giving her a shove. Arwen laughed outright.

"All right, perhaps not quite 'making eyes,' but you were _definitely_ looking at him _a lot_. Admit it." Enguina stared at her and Arwen raised her eyebrows. " _Admit it, Enguina._ "

"Fine. I was looking at him a lot," she confessed grumpily, but then she continued, crossing her arms. "And why could _you_ not have shown me the City? We will be out in it tomorrow _and_ the following day. Could you not come on Wednesday as well? No, you simply wished to throw me to the dogs!"

"Sadly, there are visitations that I must make on that day, so I did not want to say I would go and then be unable to attend. Beside this, I tell you that there is no better than Legolas for such a duty, and he is _most certainly not_ a dog! He has seen parts of Minas Tirith that I would dream of seeing but have not yet been. You _must_ go, Enguina," she said taking her hands, "I _know_ this is the right thing for you to do. I tell you that you shall never be safer than when you are with Legolas."

She raised an eyebrow. "Even safer than being with you?"

"Well, perhaps the two of us or Aragorn."

Enguina gave her a wry smile. "I suppose I shall see that for myself… _if_ ever I meet the elusive man. I think he is simply hiding from me." Arwen laughed.

"I think not!"

"Perhaps you do not know him as well as you _think_ you do…perhaps he fears that someone he does not know shall see through his little sham—"

"Oh, Enguina!" Arwen laughed, clapping a hand over her mouth. "I am _so_ glad that you have come here to Minas Tirith. I have missed you so." Enguina gave her a hug, and then moved to the front door of her guest quarters. She turned back to Arwen.

"Are you sure you will be all right in the House alone?" she asked, a little afraid for her best friend. "I could come and wait with you."

"Look at you; you are exhausted! Get in there!" Arwen said with a laugh. She shook her head as Enguina opened the door. "I have been in the King's House alone in evening more times than we have laughed together today!"

Enguina turned to look at her seriously. "I was afraid you might say that."

Arwen tilted her head and then gave her friend a patient look. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Enguina. My husband knows this…as should you."

Enguina's voice dropped to a whisper. "That was what I had thought as well."

Arwen frowned deeply at her. "And you were right, but sometimes, the weaknesses we have for others render us incapable of defending ourselves. Trauma and fear sometimes ruin our defense…that is when others must be near enough to support and protect us." She moved forward and placed both hands on her friend's shoulders. "Surely, we are not supposed to trust _everyone_ , but we must trust in those close to us. You can trust me, Enguina…I know who is good for you and who is not," she said with a soft laugh that made Enguina smile.

"I believe that you do; you would not send me into a pit of hissing vipers," she said and then sighed. "My own ghosts and demons frighten me…and they make me worry about you."

Arwen smiled. "I understand, but trust in Ilúvatar; he has always taken care of those we love within His plans for us."

"But what if His plan is—"

Arwen shook her head. "I know that my purpose has not yet been fulfilled…at least not until all that I once loved is lost to me."

Enguina squinted, searching Arwen's eyes. "You do not believe anything shall happen to you until Aragorn has already passed on."

Arwen bowed her head. "That is what I believe, yes. Surely, things shall happen that evil may come upon me, but I do not think that I shall lose my life until that time."

Enguina frowned at her. "You will not die, Arwen."

Arwen laughed softly. "Let us dwell no more upon it tonight. I will come and claim you for breakfast at the House tomorrow, and we shall talk more…and you and I will walk together again. And… _Wednesday_ , you shall walk with Legolas."

Enguina rolled her eyes, but hugged her. "Good _night_ , Arwen."

"May you have many sweet dreams of a certain handsome elf."

" _Good_ _ **night**_ _, Arwen_ ," Enguina repeated, opening her door and heaving a sigh of great longsuffering.

"Long blonde hair, sea-blue eyes…"

Enguina whirled back, staring agape at her friend. " _Honestly?!"_

Arwen laughed gaily and turned with a wave, completely amused at the sight of her friend's irritation. "I love you!" she called back over her shoulder as she made her way back towards the King's House.

Enguina rolled her eyes and gave a little smile in spite of herself. "I love you, too."


	4. Chapter 4

The church bells were striking midnight by the time Aragorn reached his home. Sighing, he went inside, tired and weary. His stomach, which had been driving him mad with hunger for the last few hours in the conference chambers, had now ceased its growling for he craved food no more. His last few pangs of appetite had faded with the last rays of the sun, and now he simply longed for the peacefulness of sleep…and wrapping his arms about those two precious bodies.

He sighed softly as he looked about the kitchen. There were no signs that anyone had eaten here, but he had known of the plans for tonight and he knew that they must have. Why could he never make things happen quickly enough so that he might arrive here on time to fellowship with this family? He ran a tired hand through his long hair, and slowly moved into the other room, hoping that Arwen had gone to bed instead of waiting up for him. She was not in their sitting room, and so must then be in their bedroom. He made his way through the doorway and stopped short when his eyes fell upon their bed.

He was wrapped up in the beauty of the Elven woman that Ilúvatar Himself had sent down for him to marry. The only sounds the room brought to his ears were the rhythmic thumping of his own heart and the gentle breathing of Arwen. The moonlight spilled from the window and lit the features of her sleeping form, especially her face, and it shone off her crystal eyes as light on water. Her dark hair was spread out around her, across the pillow and mattress, and down her back and shoulders. She lay on her side, seeming warm and comfortable beneath the sheets. A smile that he could not control split his features, and he moved forward with quiet urgency so that he might join her.

He changed from his day-clothes quickly and slipped on those for sleep. He leaned over and put out the flickering stub that had once been a candle with his finger and thumb, and gently shook his head at it. Quietly, he turned, lifted the sheets, and climbed beneath them. With care, he slipped a gentle arm about her waist and laid a loving hand upon her womb. His hand was covered in a moment, and she raised it to her lips.

"You have come to me, beloved," she said softly, but in her voice he could hear the smile even though he could not see it upon her face. He rested his head on his other hand, propping himself up on his elbow. From there, he breathed in the sweet scent of her hair and smiled again.

"I always come home to you, meleth," he replied, just as soft, and he lifted his hand from hers to stroke her face. "And you always leave a light on, waiting for me. Forgive me for waking you."

She rolled onto her back, her shoulder against his chest, and her face just beneath his. His hand fell to her neck, and his fingertips stroked her ear gently. "No, I was only just asleep."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Were you? I think you deceive me; when I entered you were looking off into the darkness…fast asleep."

She smiled at him. "Can I never fool you as you do me?"

He shook his head. "No…how long has that unfortunate candle been burning? You have ruined yet another in waiting up for your late husband." She covered his lips with her hand.

"Hush," she said, but with tenderness. "The candle does not mind, and can be made anew." She felt the hairs of his beard beneath her fingernails. "We missed you at supper."

He heaved a gentle sigh. "As surely as I missed you."

"A King cannot control what meals he shall miss or what unexpected duties shall arise during the course of one day." Her eyes granted him forgiveness and understanding. "Do not feel badly; there shall be more days to spend the time with us."

Aragorn looked at her seriously and ran a gentle hand upon her stomach. "But I shall not be here ever."

Arwen smiled, as she slipped a hand up around the back of his neck. "Nor shall I be…but we treasure the time that we have to share with one another. Days of peace are sometimes more demanding than days of war."

He smiled. "Indeed, for today was mad. How I wish that I could consume one entire day with you. The time would be well-spent, I can assure you."

"The time is well spent now, verno," she said gently, and a smile appeared upon her face. "Do not hurry it." Tenderly, she drew his lips to hers, and she ran her other hand through his hair. His eyes closed with both bliss and weariness. He rested his forehead against hers.

"Tell me what you did today," he said, his voice soft, but she knew that he was exhausted. She smiled at him though he could not see it.

Running her fingers again through his hair, she spoke. "Sleep, melda…we shall speak of it tomorrow when you are rested. You have had many a long hour."

His soft laugh filled her ears. "If I were to speak of my day, I would put _myself_ to rest, but hearing of your day shall not tire me any more than I am, and I can spare a few minutes to listen to your precious voice."

Arwen's fingers danced across his temple. "Very well. A dear friend of mine came far from Lothlórien to visit me. It has been nearly forty years since I have seen her, and Eru brought me much joy today by bringing her to me."

"She is golden-haired and green-eyed?"

"Yes," asked Arwen, a little confused. "Her name is Enguina. Did you see her today as we walked in the City?"

He shook his head gently, his brow rubbing against hers. "Nay, I saw her early this morning as she rode in."

"Did you speak with her?"

"Indeed," he said, "but she knew not who I was." He gave a soft laugh as he remembered, and she smiled as well, slipping one foot between his.

"Well, if it was that early this morning, I am sure you looked no part of a King," she said with a smile, and he tickled her ribs with vengeance. She laughed, clasping his hands to stop him.

"That is not very nice," he said in a hurt voice, his eyes still closed.

She moved her hands to his hair again and gave a soft 'aw.' "My heart grieves that I have injured you so, but be aware, I saw you before you left this morning. I was only trying to be honest. _And_ Enguina _did_ say that some mad stranger spoke with her…it was probably you she was speaking of."

His eyes opened and they were lit with mockery. "O! I am _certain_ that you are grieved for me!" He felt her hands tug his hair, and he raised his hand to one of her wrists, holding it tight. "Release me!" he said in a hissed whisper. She smiled.

" _Never_ …" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"You shall never sleep tonight if you do not…" he replied, his eyes gleaming with interest in his own thoughts of the outline in his mind for the evening. She laughed softly as his fingers stroked her ear, and her fingers loosened from his dark hair as she released him, lowering her hands to rest upon his tight shoulders.

Her eyes were lit as well, but her face was serious as she spoke. "Beloved, you would not stand upon your own two feet tomorrow if such events were to take place…and," she said stroking his face with a sweet smile, "I do not think you would last the night."

His eyes closed at her touch, and he gave a weary sigh. "But it _was_ a good threat…" he insisted softly, and she laughed.

"Oh, indeed, most beloved, and if I were not as tired as you I would say that whatever was about the day tomorrow could wait. But it cannot…and I believe it _will not_ either. And then there is the matter of my spending time with Enguina—"

"She is staying here among us, is she?"

"Yes…her quarters are not far from Faramir's."

"Good…then perhaps I shall finally get to formally introduce myself." He slipped an arm about her as she turned onto her side, her back pressed to his chest. He rested his head upon hers and kissed her face gently. "Are you spending the day together tomorrow?"

She shook her head, feeling the brush of his beard against her cheek. "Yes, but in two days, on Wednesday that shall be Legolas and Éowyn's duty. I am pleased that Legolas offered to give her such a tour; they are looking forward to showing Enguina the market place."

He laughed. "The market? Is that a perfect place for a wood-elf on her first trip to the City? The gardens, yes…the mountains…perhaps the Anduin…but the market? There shall be too many people shouting all about her. It is a strange place to acquaint an elf with after so short a time from her home." Arwen smiled.

"She shall be all right there; she shall be with _Legolas_."

Aragorn laughed. "Very well, Arwen. I trust you know what trouble you make." He gently lifted her chin towards him and their lips met again. "I hope I shall meet this young Elven woman soon that you love so dearly."

"I know that you will; do not worry about it. Perhaps tomorrow evening at supper."

He nodded and returned his head to his pillow, laying his hand back across her stomach. "I mela le, Undómiel."

Her hand folded over his in a gentle caress. "I mela le an, Elessar."

* * *

Enguina sat inside a little fenced area behind a stone house. She was amazed that she was here in Minas Tirith and that she was actually enjoying it; at the moment, she was fooling with little lambs. Stroking her hands over two of their little heads, she felt the cuddly fleece that covered their little bodies and smiled. These two were by far the friendliest; their eyes were closed as their sweet chins rested on her thighs as she sat on a stone inside the fence. She stroked behind their ears, rubbed their heads, and listened to the others _baa_ around her. She closed her eyes and listened to the peaceful sound…and then she heard Arwen's gentle laughter.

"I _thought_ I would find you out here," Arwen said, entering the little paddock as the lambs came to frolic at her feet. She reached down and cooed at them, stroking their coats as well. Enguina lifted her eyes to see her coming to take a seat near her on the stone.

"How do you know this family?"

"Their youngest son was ill this past winter," Arwen replied with a smile. "Aragorn healed him and we have been close to them ever since."

"So, the King is a Healer as well, hmm?" Enguina teased. "This man I keep hearing so much about, yet I have not seen him."

"Yes, Aragorn's hands are full of healing," she laughed in reply. "Last night he told me he hopes to spend the evening with us. But you must understand, Enguina, he has many duties."

"Yes, you said this before," Enguina replied, rolling her eyes. Arwen shook her head as Enguina continued, "Their lambs are _precious_." She sighed, watching as Arwen tried to keep as many of the lambs happy as she could, their little tails wiggling to and fro. She smiled. "They really _like_ you," she laughed.

"I am here often!" Arwen laughed, too. "When you come a few times, they shall know you just as well."

"I doubt I shall be here that long," she whispered, and then she fell silent, thinking.

Arwen was silent for a moment and then she lifted her eyes to the elder elf's face. It was tight with hidden tension and stress. Arwen knew better. "You had a dream last night," she stated, and Enguina, startled, looked up from the little sheep. "I could see it when we met for breakfast. I could tell…"

Enguina sighed and mumbled, "You always could."

"Tell me of it," she whispered. Enguina shook her head.

"No. It is nonsense…and you will think so as well."

"I have never thought so," Arwen replied, reaching out to brush her fingers against Enguina's elbow. "Share with me your pain, sister."

She looked horrified. "Why? You have your _own_ troubles—"

"Your troubles _are_ mine," she insisted. "They always have been…and always will be. I am…the only person…who knows the truth…the only person you ever spoke to about this. You refused to tell anyone else."

"It is not right," she said, shaking her head, her voice still low and horrified. "I am ashamed of it…of everything about it. I do not wish to speak of it."

Concern spread out over Arwen's features. "Enguina, there is nothing for you to be ashamed of. What happened was not your fault." She hesitated and then sighed, her voice a harsh whisper. "If anything, it was _my_ fault…for knowing what he was, and leaving you alone for even a moment."

"No!" cried Enguina, looking even more devastated as she gripped Arwen's hands. "I will _not_ let you blame yourself!"

"Then neither one of us should," Arwen said reasonably. "What, out of anything that happened, could possibly be _your_ fault?"

"I…I led him to believe I loved him."

"You thought you had."

Enguina sighed. "Can we just—"

"No, we cannot. Tell me of your dream."

There was silence for a moment, and Enguina continued to stroke her fingers along the lamb's little head. Her eyes still on that precious face, she sighed. "It always begins the same way," she whispered, "on Cerin Amroth…where I was waiting for you." Arwen closed her eyes in pain at her words…had she only been there on time, none of what had followed would have happened. "And then _he_ comes…and I am rolling, rolling, rolling to the bottom of that flowered hill, sick of the grass and the sky, unable to hide, unable to pull away. I try to get up and he forces me to the ground…his eyes burn with that forbidden passion that he…forced on me. Ugh…it makes my stomach recoil just _thinking_ of it." Arwen rested her hand on her arm, and she continued. "And then he is touching me…and no one comes to my rescue," she whispered. "No one comes and he…he keeps _taking_ _me_ …"

Arwen noticed the tears on Enguina's face, felt some on her own, and she reached out, wrapping her arms around her friend. "But I was there," she said gently. "I came…" _Too late…but I came…_ "And he is never to be near you again. Never…he is dead—"

She laughed bitterly. "Only in my dreams! We do not know that; he must still exist. He was never found. And even if he only exists in my nightmares, Arwen, he is _there_ , touching me, kissing me…I _hate_ him," she snarled, gasping, and burying her head against her shoulder. "Every time I _look_ at another man, _he_ is the one I see. And perhaps that was his aim; perhaps he wished to wound me so badly that he was the only one I would ever see again. To prove that even though he could not get me to marry him, that I would still be his…and _only_ his…forever."

"No, no," Arwen insisted tenderly, "you are _not_ his. He was not smart enough to plan so; his only plan was to wound you, hurt you, get what he wanted."

"That was a success."

"But after all this time, Enguina, is there no way to let it go? No way to find peace?"

"I cannot see it. Arwen, I…" she hesitated. She wanted to be honest, but it was hard. She had only ever spoken to her brother's wife about her thoughts of a future. She sighed. "I only see a future of myself in Valinor…there is nothing here for me but…but _grief_. All I see is his evil face, and every nasty thing he ever said plays in my head. I can only find peace in the call of the sea," she whispered. "That is the only choice left for me now."

Arwen listened to her and was stricken by the sudden sadness in Enguina's voice. She laid her head upon Enguina's and sighed softly, closing her eyes. "Father," she whispered, "give Enguina your peace…and make it enough for her so that she can stay and enjoy Middle-Earth for as long as you would have her do so. Help her to find your peace in something here. Help her, Father."

There was silence for a moment. "Maybe, if you were to make the journey with me, I would not feel so lonely," Enguina said, and Arwen sighed.

"That is a journey I will never be able to make, love," she replied gently. "I gave up that life when I married Aragorn. At some uncounted, unforeseeable time, I will leave Middle-Earth behind forever…but not for the White Shores of Valinor."

"You will not die, Arwen," Enguina whispered, and Arwen felt her hands clutch her tightly. She could not do anything but smile sadly.

"It is my _fate_ to die now, Enguina. My choice, my doom, my sacrifice."

"Your _choice? Die…_ as in... _die_?" Enguina asked, and Arwen could hear the horror in her voice. She lifted her head to meet Arwen's eyes.

"Yes," she replied, "as in no longer breathe the same air as you, dear one." She stroked her face from cheek to chin. "I would have it no other way…I could not."

"How could any man be worth that?" she whispered back, mystified. "Does he have any idea what you sacrificed? That you will die for _him_?"

Arwen laughed softly, kissing her temple. "Have you never met someone you would die for, Enguina?"

"I would die for you," she whispered, "but we are best friends. To die for love? Is that not a selfish thing to ask of someone?"

"Aragorn knew exactly what he was asking of me…and he tried to give me back," she said honestly. "He tried to make me see that what we had was nothing but a dream…but he was wrong, and I refused. You see, there was no way for me to live without him; there will never _be_ a way. It would have been impossible to find happiness without his love. I am his completely…" she hesitated and reached up, stroking Enguina's cheek again. "This is the love I pray for…for you."

"For me?" she asked incredulously. "Oh, Arwen…you hope for the impossible! I can barely be _near_ a man without the thought of being in that place again, in that moment." She looked at her honestly. "I could never do what you have done…have a husband, begin a family. I would never be able to…" she blushed and shook her head. "No, I wish to speak of it no more."

"I will pray for you," Arwen replied, "as I have for the longest time." But she looked at her sincerely, now holding her hands tightly, "But you must give yourself a chance, Enguina. Give yourself a chance and stop hiding in the shadows."

"Give myself… _Arwen_ ," she muttered, figuring out what Arwen was referring to.

"I do not tease," she said firmly, and Enguina sighed. "Legolas is a _good_ man—"

"And a good friend of _yours_ ," she added. "He deserves someone _pure_."

"Which you _are_ ," Arwen replied sternly and Enguina snorted.

"Your words do not make it so!" she stated and her eyes flooded with tears.

"My words?" Arwen said, staring at her. "They are not my words! What happened was not of your doing, or at your request. You have to _see_ that…you have to _accept_ it. You can be happy, Enguina. You have to allow yourself to feel something other than loathing for yourself." Enguina looked at her with sad eyes. "Can you at least promise me…can you at least _try_? Simply try. It is all I ask."

"It sounds so easy, and yet," she shook her head. "Is that all? For me to try to _feel_ something…other than fear and panic and disgust at myself?"

Arwen looked at her sadly. "Is that really how you feel about yourself? Disgust?"

She looked away. "Arwen, I…I cannot _help_ it. You can say it is not my fault, that he is the one to blame for all of it…but I feel as though I led him there. I led him to that place."

" _Led him_?" Arwen repeated, staring at her. "It was all he ever wanted from you, Enguina. There was never any leading required! The elf was…he was…" She stuttered over her words, so angry that she could hardly prevent herself from stumbling. She stood suddenly, turning away from Enguina so she could not see her face as the older elf had turned back to her. It tore her up inside, to hear Enguina blame herself, and to feel her own disgust even thinking about what the elf had done to her.

"You are angry," Enguina stated, but her voice was soft.

"Yes," Arwen choked out, her own eyes flooding with tears, "but not at _you_. He was a _bastard_ , Enguina—"

" _Arwen_!" Enguina cried, her eyes wide, staring at her back. She had _never_ heard her curse…not in a thousand years of knowing her.

"—a filthy, sick, depraved _bastard_ that was intent on taking you and you are going to blame _yourself_?" She turned back to her, her eyes fierce. "I cannot let you do that."

"You need to calm down," Enguina said, a bit alarmed. "Think of the baby."

"I am thinking of _you_ ," Arwen muttered, feeling the blood rising in her face.

"Then let us not speak of it anymore," she said, worried. "Please—"

"And how will not speaking of it help?" Arwen sighed loudly, trying to release her stress. "You retreat into your mind, into the depths of yourself and in a week's time will be leaving for the Grey Havens."

"You are jumping to conclusions," Enguina said, holding her hand out, palm down. The lambs were clustered around Arwen's feet now, all trying to seek her affection. "Look, the lambs—"

"I do not want to speak of the lambs when I am worried about you," Arwen grumbled, refusing to look at them. She looked into her eyes, staring into them, hers pleading. "I…I do not _want_ you to _go._ Not for this…perhaps not _ever_ …but not for something like this."

Enguina stood and went to her side. She reached out and hugged her, laying her head on Arwen's shoulder and sighing. "Maybe…maybe I only need your push, your encouragement. Perhaps it has taken all this time for me to live again because I have not _had_ your push for so many years."

Arwen rested her head against Enguina's and sighed in frustration. She knew very well that Enguina was maneuvering her again; she was so _good_ at it. Thinking perhaps that Enguina had enough today, she allowed it. "Has Erumar not been shoving you?"

She thought of her brother's wife with love. "Oh, every chance," she replied off-handedly, "but there are no eligible men in Lothlórien that I have not known for a thousand-or-so years. Unlike _here_ …where you can pawn me off to whomever you like and try your hand at matchmaking."

Arwen hit her suddenly in the shoulder. " _Honestly_ , 'pawn you off?' What is that! Legolas is a good man, and he would take care of you. He has always taken care of me…perhaps that is what you need right now. A good, honest man."

"Like yours?" she said, rolling her eyes and sighing.

" _Exactly_ as mine."

"You are too much."

* * *

Arwen rolled over in the bed, pulling out of the memory of her dream, illness sweeping over her like a wildfire. Ears burning, face aflame, sweat pouring off her in waves. Her stomach felt as though she was on the ocean, and when she blinked the room rolled before her vision.

"Ugh…" she moaned aloud, closing her eyes quickly and trying to breathe deeply as Aragorn had taught her. She thought the illness was from the dream; it was not. Her hand fell to her womb. _Please…calm down…calm down…_ But this was irretrievable; she was past the point of no return for stopping the retching she knew was coming. She could prolong the inevitable perhaps by taking deep breaths, but not stop it.

"Good morning, beautiful," she heard Aragorn's voice from across the room. She had thought him gone already, but he must have just been changing. Opening her eyes, she caught sight of him coming towards her with his wet hair, looking quite handsome in a red tunic, and then the world spun and she slammed her eyes shut like a door.

"Not…not so good…" she whispered, her voice weak even to her ears. His pace quickened before he reached her side, and she felt his hand on her forehead. He watched her swallow, and he tossed the cover back off of her, letting the cool December air reach her soaked skin.

"Better?" he asked, concerned, and she cracked her eyes at him.

" _No_ ," she muttered, and then tried to get up, her head swimming. Knowing full well that she was going to fall over, Aragorn scooped her into his arms and carried her the few feet into their bath. Setting her on the floor, he reached out for the bowl he kept on the counter and then swept her hair back over her shoulders. The bowl in one hand, her hair in the other, he held her upright. Her hands shaking, she wrapped one around his wrist, clutching him and hunched over, muscles spasming as she heaved.

When she was finished retching and she was still, she felt him moving, setting down the bowl, wiping her mouth, leaning her back against him so her warm head was pressed to his cool neck. His other arm wrapped around her womb, rubbing her stomach gently as his lips pressed to her forehead.

"I hate feeling this way," she whispered. "It is so…so embarrassing."

"You are ill, meleth," he replied. "Do not be embarrassed."

"I wish I could make it stop before I get to this point."

"You have been doing well," he said gently. "You have not been ill since the first time. Most women feel ill from time to time when they are with child."

She moved her head over, absorbing more of the coolness of his skin. "Will it stop?"

He grimaced. "It may…or it may not."

"Oh… _wonderful_. You are full of encouragement this morning."

Aragorn chuckled softly and kissed the top of her head. "Feeling a little better?"

"A little," she sighed. "You are very cool."

"Your head is less warm and you are no longer sweating," he said. "Good signs."

"You need to go," she whispered and then felt him sigh.

"I need to stay here with you."

"I will be all right," she replied, giving a soft laugh. "It always fades after some time, and I need to bathe and get dressed. I am headed over to Enguina's this morning with muffins."

He shook his head. "You should be lying down," he said, stroking her stomach, "and I should be caring for—"

"If I stayed in bed every time I did not feel well, where would it get me, beloved? No, I need to do this."

"Can I at least prepare the—"

"No," she said, trying to absorb as much of his coolness as possible, and then she sat up slowly. "I will prepare my own bath. I am feeling better now."

He looked down into her eyes and sighed, cupping his hands around her face. "You are still pale. Are you sure I cannot help somehow?"

She smiled. "Yes, please try and be here for dinner tonight."

"I _will_ try. You have my word." He studied her eyes a moment, and she knew that he saw more there than she thought he had. "You were dreaming this morning."

Her stomach spun again as she thought of Enguina…and that hill… She swallowed. "It is gone now," she said softly. "It was an old dream."

His eyes missed nothing; his ears were too attentive to every inflection in her voice. "Is there nothing I can do?"

She shook her head. "No, an old dream is an old dream, Aragorn. We have been on this road before."

"Yes, but generally _I_ am on the receiving end of the questions."

"True," she said, giving a little smiled. "Now _go_ , before you are very late." He released her, kissing her forehead. "I love you."

"And I love you," he said, flipping the contents of the bowl down into the sewer and taking care of the bowl and leaving it on the counter. He looked back at her, meeting her eyes. "For my sanity, please take it easy today."

She gave him a little smile. "I _will_ try," she teased.

He groaned.


	5. Chapter 5

Breakfast was on its way to Enguina with Arwen's favorite muffins in the basket she was carrying. Arwen was still not in a particularly good mood; this morning, the illness was still hanging around her and her memory did nothing to help it go away. She rested her hand on her belly and sighed. _Little one, mommy is not feeling well_. She gave a wry smile. She wanted, more than anything to have this baby in her arms already so that she and Aragorn could love and adore him. Nothing about pregnancy was normal, and she knew that as an elf, she needed to be particularly careful. But Aragorn knew quite a bit about babies and having children, and so she did not fret anywhere near as much as she could have been fretting.

Arriving at Enguina's door, she knocked and then smiled with eagerness to see her friend, shoving the illness away. A few moments passed, and she wondered if Enguina was still asleep; this would be strange though, as it was not very early. She reached forward again and knocked a bit harder. Time passed.

"Enguina?" Arwen called, knocking again upon the door. "I have brought breakfast, friend! Come to the door!" When there was still no response, the sickness in the pit of her stomach changed to full worry. Doubt and fear for her friend gnawing at her, Arwen reached forward and gave the door a shove. It swung open immediately.

Arwen entered, calling her friend's name again the moment she was inside. Seeing Enguina nowhere in sight and wondering if she might be taking a bath or somehow equally indisposed, she set the basket of muffins upon the table and moved down the short hall to look for her. She stopped at the little bedroom where she assumed she would find her friend, and her heart leapt into her throat.

The sheets were scattered and torn from the bed, lying in great heaps upon the floor. The curtains had been ripped from their hangings; the top dresser drawer lay open. One of the pillows had been torn apart; there was goose down strewn about the room. And all of this was _nothing_ compared to what the blood on the sheets did to her brain. Dazed, stunned, her heart pounding in her chest and head, adrenaline adding fuel to the fire, she cried out and stumbled further down the hall.

" _Enguina!_ " Arwen cried, terrified that something unspeakable had happened to her friend. Not in _her_ City…not even a two minute walk from the House! Bloody fingerprints on the wall made her gasp and she threw herself around the corner into the last room, heedless of any danger or thought except getting to her friend.

Arwen's eyes swept the room, her hands clutching the door frame. Finally, her eyes fell upon her, still in her nightdress; huddled in the corner furthest from the door, Enguina sat with her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped about herself like a strangle hold, her face hidden but her shoulders wracking. Crying out, Arwen ran to her side and threw herself to her knees beside her. She wrapped her in her arms, tugging her out of the corner and falling against the wall herself as she tried to hold Enguina against her. Reduced to a tearful mess, the older elf's hands and form were shaking as Arwen pressed her against her chest, her hair tangled.

"Shh…shh…you are all right, love," she whispered. A night terror…it _had_ to have been. Tucking Enguina's head into her neck and underneath her chin, she rested her cheek upon her head. "I am here…I am here."

It was many minutes before Arwen felt Enguina move or respond or even acknowledge she was there and holding her. Enguina's fingers somehow had released themselves from wherever she had been holding them and now they clutched Arwen's dress, holding tight to the friend who would not let her go. Enguina began to cry then in earnest, and Arwen held her tightly within her arms, rocking her gently.

It was a very long time, Arwen had no idea how long, before Enguina could collect herself, to pull herself back into her very brittle shell and cage her fears. Arwen rested her head upon Enguina's again, stroking her hair. "A dream?" Arwen asked very softly, and she heard Enguina breathe in.

" _Terrible_ …" she croaked, her voice harsh with tears and something more. She had been screaming…Arwen's heart broke for her.

"You need some tea," she whispered, and she felt Enguina shudder against her. But then she carefully lifted her head. Arwen could see the scratches she had made down along her own chest, the blood on her nightdress and hands that still clutched Arwen. "You hurt yourself," she whispered, her own throat tight with grief.

" _His hands…they were all over me_ ," she whimpered, and Arwen placed her hands on Enguina's face, trying to stem the flow of tears.

"In your dream, dear one…only in your dream. He cannot hurt you here," she said gently. Arwen reached down and very carefully removed Enguina's hands from her dress, holding them in her own. "You need care." Enguina looked down at her own hands and for the first time saw the blood on her fingers, beneath her nails.

"I did it while asleep," she muttered. "I was trying to stop the feel of him. Ugh…" she groaned, sick to her stomach, and Arwen lifted her chin.

"Do not look," she said.

Enguina tried to laugh. "It is mine…I can stand it if it is mine."

"I would prefer you did not," Arwen replied, and even though Enguina was still shaking, she got to her knees beside her. "We are going to get you to your feet and into the bath. Do you think you can help me do that?"

Enguina stared at her a moment and then shook her head, tears coming unbidden to her eyes. " _I…I do not know_."

"Let us try," Arwen whispered back, and carefully, she pulled Enguina to her feet and wrapped her arm around her waist. The older elf leaned heavily on her, but Arwen was able to help her slowly down the hall and into the room. She set Enguina down on the floor there and began drawing a bath for her.

"You do not need to do that," Enguina said quietly. "I can do this…I _can_ —" Her voice, even though it had been soft to begin with, cut out as her breath caught and her eyes closed tightly. She was so distraught, so horrified about her dream, that the events were as drawings in her mind…they were happening again in flashes, taking her by surprise. She began to curl into herself again, trying to make herself as small as possible.

"I _do_ need to do it," Arwen whispered, stroking her face even as Enguina tried to bury it behind her hands. " _Let_ me; I am here." She slipped her arms back around her and held Enguina until the water was ready. Helping Enguina to stand upon her trembling knees, Arwen reached over to remove her sweat-soaked nightdress. Instead of complaining this time or trying to convince her friend to do something else, Enguina let her do it. Slowly, she helped her into the bath, where the older elf settled down and leaned her head against the side of the tub. Arwen, leaning against the tub herself, looked at her seriously.

"Please…forgive me," Enguina whispered. "I know I gave you quite a fright."

"I was terrified for your safety," she replied. "I thought you had been hurt." She laid a hand on the top of Enguina's head. "But you have nothing to be sorry for," she added. "We cannot control our dreams."

"I wish I could."

"I have never seen you…hurt yourself, destroy a room. Enguina," she whispered softly, "I fear for you. We have to find a way to fight this."

"I…I do not know how." Enguina stared back into her eyes, pain on her face. "I try to fight them back…I try to fight the visions of him but they keep coming," she whispered, her voice filled with agony. "I cannot stop _thinking_ about the way he…it was so many years ago. Why can the past simply not die…why can I not let it go?"

Arwen had no answer for her. Leaning forward, she kissed Enguina's forehead gently. "Soak, wash, dress…I will be just in the other room."

"Do _not_ fix that bed," Enguina warned. "That should be my punishment."

Arwen stumbled for nearly three seconds, trying to find an appropriate response.

"Stop _blaming_ yourself," Arwen cried, a fire lit behind her eyes as they filled with tears. "Stop _punishing yourself!_ Is your _dream_ not punishment enough for something you never did? Enough, Enguina… _wash_ him away… _scrub_ him away…force him away from you as though he were a _disease_ you could fight with a bath. And every time you think of him, scrape him away from you. He does not deserve so high a place in your thoughts." She kissed her roughly on the forehead, choking back a sob as she stood.

Enguina reached out and caught her hand as she turned away. "Arwen—"

The younger elf shook her head. "I will be back."

Enguina stared after her friend and rested her head back against the tub again, feeling awful. _Scrub him away,_ Arwen had said. It would not, could not, be that easy…but how she longed for it to be! And perhaps Arwen was right. Perhaps if she tried, if she began to cleanse herself from his evil, her thoughts of him devouring her pushed tightly away, maybe she could try to live again. It would be so difficult…she did not know if it could be done, assumed it could not be done, and reaching to Ilúvatar was so little help to her right now. She wanted to… _desperately_ …but she felt she had been asking for His aid for years and He had never healed her heart then. Why should he do so now?

 _What help are you now, when I need you so desperately? Why are you so far from me?_ She sighed. Arwen was right about one thing—the bath had been a good idea. And maybe the idea, the visualizing of her pain being rinsed and scrubbed away, might also scrape the scars from her heart, and the balm for the wounds she had given herself could be her first step to healing. She did not know, but for the first time in years, she felt as though she might be willing to give it a try. Something, somewhere had to give…perhaps she could try to come to terms with what had happened and figure out how to live again.

* * *

Legolas's keen eyes missed nothing about Enguina that night from the moment he set foot inside the door. She was stuck to Arwen's side like pitch, as though she needed her for safety. It was an interesting dynamic; Legolas had never seen someone, aside from Éowyn years ago, so in need of joy. This woman was _hurting_. He had not been able to stop speaking of it and his worry for her to Gimli as they worked today. Last evening she had been subdued; tonight, she was _quiet_. She had barely said three words through all of dinner. Éowyn had taken Annî out early tonight, and Faramir, as he had been with Aragorn today, had also missed dinner. Even Gimli was engaged in laughter with Arwen, yet Enguina could not even appear interested in their conversation.

Enguina's eyes were down on her plate; she did not look up, and she only picked at her food with the fork she held between her delicate fingers. Legolas wished to reach over and take her hand, if only to still her continuous movement. Instead, he kept his hands to himself and reached out to her with his voice and words.

"Lady," he said softly and she slowly lifted her eyes to him, "your heart is troubled tonight. There is a great weight upon you, it seems."

What to say? How should she respond? Enguina knew he was an elf like her; if she had seen anyone so sullen and quiet, she would have reached out in the same way he was trying to reach her…had been trying to reach her the last two evenings, though tonight was particularly bad. "I do not…" she tried to respond and then shook her head. "No…that would not be truthful, and I should not lie," she sighed. "My heart _is_ heavy, Legolas, but I wish we would not speak of it."

He looked at her a moment…and she could see him make a concerted effort to move on. She did not wish to speak of it, and he only wished to please her. She began to look away, and he would not have their conversation end so quickly. "Did you see much of Minas Tirith today?"

She shook her head, still watching him. "Not today, no. Arwen and I…stayed indoors."

"There are many beautiful places in the City, and they would take more than a day to see," he continued. "Éowyn reminded me earlier," Legolas began, though he was thinking how he could ever forget, "about our trip to the market tomorrow. Would you still like us to accompany you there or would you prefer to wait until you are a bit more settled?"

She gave a soft sigh. "I do not know how much more settled I shall be when I do not have any idea how long I am to be here. No, I suppose it would be best to go tomorrow."

"I am glad to hear that you would still like to go," he said, giving her a smile. "It is to be a clear, beautiful day tomorrow. You said you were not out in the City today, but did Arwen take you somewhere particular the day before…or do we get to begin from anywhere we like tomorrow?"

Enguina actually smiled at his words, a bit amused. "Arwen _did_ show me the gardens, which she said that your kin was involved in planting. That is good, as this City is not green enough for me."

"Nor me," he said with a soft laugh. "I told Aragorn the same when we first came, but I have spent much of my time here, and so I have been growing accustomed to the scenery."

" _Scenery?_ You would consider stone walls _scenery_?"

He laughed for certain then. "Well, if that is all there is! But sometimes it is good to escape the walls and go for a ride along the Anduin or the Pelennor, both of which are very beautiful."

"Yes," she replied, smiling as well, "I would consider the Great River very beautiful though I only saw it from a distance."

"Then perhaps someday soon we could take a ride out there," Legolas offered.

"I miss the trees of Lórien," Enguina said softly, "but even they are not as they once were. Though…perhaps it is my perspective that has changed."

"Sometimes," he said thoughtfully, "our perspective does change the way we experience the world. But I can tell you that near the Anduin there are great sycamores, and in the mountains, there are hidden passages with coves and grass and trees where one would not expect. There _is_ much beauty to be found in Minas Tirith." He gave her a little grin. "One only needs to know where to look."

"And, I suppose, have a guide to _know_ where to look," Enguina said with a wry smile.

Legolas raised his eyebrows. "Well, of course. One cannot expect to find all of the many things a place has to offer without a knowledgeable guide."

"I think perhaps most of the beauty is _here_ ," Enguina said softly, and Legolas kept his eyes on hers. "In this room I mean. In the children…in friendship. Do you always have meals here?"

"Yes," he agreed, "Gimli and I work hard all day and then force Arwen to slave away for us every night." He said this so seriously that she had to laugh.

"She seems _very_ troubled by your demands."

"Terribly," he said, shaking his head, "and forcing her to do so when she is getting farther along is completely wrong, but…well…I can honestly say I have no guilt."

"That is very cruel."

"I will agree and even admit it, though…I can be nice when I wish to be, but for a price," he teased her and she gave him another smile. "I tease, of course."

"Oh," she said, nodding, but the look of her face was teasing as well, "of course."

He grinned. "In truth, it has been Arwen's spoken request that whoever of our fellowship is within the walls is always expected for meals in the King's House and she and Éowyn share the duties. Éowyn _has_ been busy with Andúnêiel, but soon Arwen will have one of her own to look after, and…well…I was thinking that if you were to be staying for a while that perhaps you would like the job."

Her eyebrows rose. " _Really_?" Her tone was so dry that Legolas had a hard time not laughing.

"Well, yes. Someone needs to cook for the rest of us!"

She laughed. "Now I _know_ you tease. If Arwen has not spread it around yet, she soon will. I am _not_ a very good cook, and I can promise you that you would not wish to ask it of me. Not _at all_."

"On the contrary," Legolas said earnestly, leaning his elbows on the table to bring his head closer to hers, "Arwen said you were a _wonderful_ cook and that you would enjoy the position immensely."

Enguina shot a glance down the table and caught Arwen's eye; she was about to give her a filthy look when she caught a smirk flit across Legolas's face for half-a-second before she looked back. She turned and narrowed her eyes at him. "You _are_ cruel," she said. "What is the price for you to be nice?"

"Ah," he said, raising an eyebrow at her, "I must be allowed to provide an escort for my Lady throughout the City and permitted to be her guide when Arwen has a previous engagement." She stared at him, and he tilted his head. "Do you think the price too high?"

"No, but I am amused that you were able to set it in a moment when I believed you had nothing in mind."

He smiled. "How do you know I do not say that to every lady I meet?"

"Your words are clearly not well-rehearsed," she said with a laugh.

Arwen interrupted them, then, and their teasing drew to a halt as they were included in her conversation. She wanted to know what Legolas had done today, and so he enlightened her. It was not long afterwards that everyone was to leave, and Arwen could tell that Enguina, though she was more engaged in the conversation, was tired. Her sleep had not been long or undisturbed, so Arwen moved them along a bit.

They all left the House together, but once outside, Legolas stopped near Enguina as Arwen stood beside her. Gimli had already said his goodnights, but Legolas raised an eyebrow at her and looked at her expectantly.

"So?"

She stared at him. "Pardon me?"

"My price," he said, looking down into her eyes, "are you willing to pay it?" Arwen stared at the two of them, the exchange intriguing her. Enguina and Legolas were having a serious conversation _and_ … _bantering?_ Perhaps even _flirting_? Legolas continued while she was stunned. "You spoke that it was fair."

"I did not say that," she denied with a bit of a smirk. It felt _right_ on her face.

He tilted his head and rolled his eyes. This made her laugh. "How true…I _am_ at fault. You said that you did not think it was too high."

"Yes."

A pause. "So?" Another pause from her. It amused her so much to see the impatience he was trying to keep out of his voice and off his face. He succeeded in keeping it from his face, but not _quite_ his voice. "So are you willing to pay it?"

"You are persistent," she said and he gave her a grin.

"You still have not answered my question."

"I will pay it," she replied and she felt herself giving him a real, true smile, one that lit her eyes, "if you will be nice."

"Nice I will do," he said and then bowed his head to her. "Éowyn and I will meet you as planned at the Fountain with Annî."

"And you will be nice," she said with a raised eyebrow.

"I give you my _word_ , Lady. Until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she replied softly as he bowed his head again and turned from them. Enguina watched him walk away for a moment and then turned back to Arwen, who practically stood gaping at her. She sighed and rolled her eyes. " _Honestly…_ "

"Do not _honestly_ me," Arwen said, astounded as Enguina slipped her arm through hers and began towing her towards her guest quarters. "What was _that_ all about? I missed a massive part of that conversation. You were… _bantering_ with Legolas?"

"If you must know…yes," she said, and Arwen could see a little smile appear on her face, even though she would not meet her eyes. "And it felt, for the first time… _good_." Arwen's hand tightened on Enguina's but much to Enguina's relief, she did not say anything more about it. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them.

* * *

Arwen could hear Legolas and Gimli's laughter from inside the house as she stepped up onto the porch and rapped her knuckles gently against the doorframe. She was not sure if they would hear her, but she should not have doubted the elf's hearing even through their laughter. The door opened, and when Legolas saw that it was her, the surprise was written all over his face.

"Arwen?" he said in greeting, and she noticed Gimli turn around to face the door as well when he heard it was her.

"Good evening again," she said, nodding to Gimli, but her eyes settled back on Legolas. "I was wondering if I might be able to speak with you."

"Certainly," he said, intrigued. He stepped back and waved a hand. "Please, come—"

"Alone, if possible," she said, softly, giving Gimli a pained expression. "I do not mean to offend you in the _least_ way, Gimli—"

"No, no, not offended!" the dwarf laughed. "Some conversations are for four ears alone!" He waved them off. "Not to worry, not to worry."

"Thank you," she said warmly, then she looked back into Legolas's face. "Walk with me?" He nodded and stepped out the door with her, closing it behind him before he offered her his arm and the two of them set off towards the gardens and the Embrasure together.

She was glad when Legolas did not try and draw her out into conversation; it gave her a few moments to think about what she wanted to say. She had made up her mind to talk with him after she had seen his and Enguina's exchange not very long ago, but now that she was with him…it was difficult to plan what she had been going to say to him. When they reached the Embrasure, she leaned on her elbows upon it, staring off into the night. Legolas did much the same, but instead of watching the night as she did, he watched her…clearly waiting.

"I know my silence must be very frustrating," she said, giving him a wry smile as she turned her head towards him.

"No," he replied honestly, shaking his head, "it is fine. You seem to be…in much thought tonight. Perhaps you are not sure what it is you want to say?"

"I _do_ know…" she said, sighing, "I do. I…saw you and Enguina tonight and overheard your conversation. I know you are going into the City tomorrow, to the Market…and I—"

"Yes," he replied, a bit of a smile on his face, "I know you had a hand in that. The Lady would not have agreed to come if not for your assistance in urging Éowyn to join us. It was a wonderful idea." He looked at her face, seeing a frown there and wondering at it. "Was it something I said? Did I offend you? Eru forbid, did I offend _her_?"

"No, no," she replied, laughing softly, "in fact, I think she… _enjoyed_ your flirting with her. I know she did, in truth, though she would not say so, and she would not view it as flirting perhaps. Perhaps it was not to begin with?" She asked the last softly, probing a bit.

She noticed a faint blush on his cheeks; he _never_ blushed. "I had hoped I was reading her correctly. She was easy to tease during dinner, and I find that I have a…what shall I call it? I have a particular talent at making her smile; she needs to smile more. Yes, I will admit to bantering with her, but not flirting." He shook his head. "Flirting implies I was _toying_ with her…and that I would not do. She carries the weight of something very heavily." He paused and then looked at her meaningfully. "Even a fool could see that."

She knew what he wanted; he was digging a bit, just as she had been, but there was no way she was going to tell him anything. There was no way she could. "Perhaps this is forward…it is most definitely abrupt," she said, and he was surprised by her tone. She sounded tired and worried to him. "But it has been a long day, and though I am usually adept with words, I have none left for tonight. Legolas, you say you would not toy with her, flirt with her…can you tell me what your intentions _are_ towards Enguina? For my…for my peace of mind?"

"Your 'peace of mind?' What can you mean?" he asked, eyeing her as she turned towards him.

"What are your intentions?" she asked, looking directly into his eyes, trying to read him. "Do you intend to court her? Do you intend to get to know her? Are you serious about a relationship? If you fall in love with her, do you intend to marry her? I… _know_ that both of you could be so good for each other, and I know you seem to be interested in her—"

"Arwen, slow down!" he said, holding up his hands. He stared at her, shocked at her questions. "How can I know what the future may bring? Do you need to know all this right now?"

"I…" her voice cut off as she looked down at her hands and then back up into his face. "Legolas, this is going to sound so _terribly_ rude and I know very well that where a friendship can begin it may never grow to become anything but that, a good friendship, but—"

"You need not worry," he replied, touching her arm. "Arwen, Enguina is safe with me."

She stared at him, absorbing those words. She had thought that herself, knew that about Legolas, but she needed to be _sure_. She needed to be certain what Legolas was looking for before she encouraged her friend to get to know him seriously. "What…does that mean?"

He laughed softly. "I have only the best of intentions towards her! Arwen, when I first met her Sunday evening, I thought…dear Eru in Heaven! I thought she might have been an embodiment of the Valar in Middle-Earth," he said honestly. "When she smiles it lights up her face and she teases as though she enjoys my company. My only intention is to get to know her better, to learn what makes her smile, to discover who she is within the walls she has built; she is _hiding_. She appears… _afraid_ to me. It appears _you_ do not have any intention of sharing—"

"No, I do not."

"Then I shall have to move along while on shifting sand," he acquiesced, bowing his head. "From the very first moment that I saw her…yes, it was her beauty I noticed first from the wall as she walked into Minas Tirith, but from that first moment I have felt a _need_ to get to know her." He laid a hand on his heart. "Something…something has awakened inside me, something I have never felt before. I…I think I am in love. Could that be true? To fall in love so fast?"

Arwen looked at him seriously, but murmured, "Most would say it is not possible, though I have experienced different. What Ilúvatar has laid on hearts, I have nothing to speak against. May your words and thoughts be as true in your heart, Legolas, as they are on your lips."

The words had a bit of an ominous ring to his ears and he tilted his head. "I promise that she will be all right tomorrow at the Market. I would not let any harm come to her; she is in a new place, and Éowyn will be with us as well, if that makes you feel—"

"That…was for Enguina's sake, not for mine," she interrupted him softly. She sighed and looked very concerned. "I _know_ you are a good man, Legolas; I have known you since I was a little girl, but…even the most wonderful man with the best intentions in the world could say or do something they do not mean and I…there is no doubt that you would be good to her, I know that…but…" She was stumbling over her words, and she knew it. She knew what she wanted to say, but...

"Arwen," he said gently, reaching out and taking hold of her hands, "say what you want to say."

"No matter what it sounds like?" she asked and he shook his head.

"Whatever you need to say."

She let out the breath she had apparently been holding, glanced down at their joined hands, and looked up directly into his eyes. She stared at him so intently, so gravely, that he actually felt the shiver of fear when she opened her mouth. "Legolas, if you hurt her…I will kill you myself."

If there had not been something strange in her eyes then as she said it, he might have actually laughed at her words. But no, she was so serious there were tears in her eyes; she was so worried, so… _anxious_ for her friend's safety that he could in no way laugh or be anything but completely sincere. He reached up and laid a hand on her cheek, his eyes earnest.

"Arwen, I would, in no way ever, intentionally hurt her. My expectation is to get to know her better, to be someone who she would spend time with, and if I am permitted to complete the first two, perhaps even make her my wife, if she would have me."

She stared at him. "So…there will be no going back."

He _did_ laugh then. "Past the point of no return, Arwen," he told her earnestly. "You are so _worried_ about her. I can see it in your eyes; hear it in your voice."

"You will have to forgive me, Legolas," she replied. "She is my dearest friend; perhaps not the oldest, but my dearest and closest friend. I love her…and I love you…and though to see you both together would be a wish close to my heart—"

"You needed to warn me," he said with a hint of a smile. "I understand."

"Do you?" It was a shy question; she feared she had offended him.

"Yes," he stated, nodding. "I would expect no less; I have seen the two of you together in the City. You are nearly sisters; you are so close. But let me make you a promise: I will rely on Ilúvatar for my every word and deed. I am the same man you have known forever. Nothing will change me from the man I have always been."

"I know," she said softly, "but thank you for saying it out loud, and for walking out here with me." She leaned back away from him and rested her elbows on the wall again.

"Shall we walk back?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No, I think I would like to stay here a little while longer," she replied. "But I thank you."

"Would you like some company?"

"No, no," she said gently. "I think I might prefer to be alone at the moment."

"Are you sure? At least let me escort you back to the House, you can sit on the porch there—"

"Legolas," she chided him, "this is my City and my people. I am fine wherever I go." She smiled into his face. "Go home, Legolas…look forward to tomorrow."

He gave her the sweetest smile, and for a moment, she wondered why she had ever felt the need to make him understand how serious she was about Enguina. "I will," he replied. "Do not stay out too late. If it has been as long of a day as you said, then you should take some rest. Good night, Arwen." He turned and walked away.

Arwen watched him a moment, but then she looked back out across the Pelennor. Why _had_ she felt the need to threaten him? She had, _indeed_ , threatened him. Enguina was her closest friend; she always had been. If she encouraged Enguina into a relationship with Legolas, and something terrible happened or it fell apart, she would feel responsible. Did she think that would happen? No…in fact, she thought just the opposite. Watching the two of them tonight, she could not help but think what a wonderful pair they made. How wonderful to see her smile for a reason other than Arwen herself! How nice to see her teasing Legolas, and for him to be teasing her! Yes, the two of them could be quite perfect together. She wanted very much for this to work out…but Enguina would need to overcome her past first, and that would be difficult enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Legolas had no choice but to smile to himself. Surely, this was one of the most beautiful days that Gondor had seen in quite some time…and if that was not so, than surely it was one of the most beautiful days that _he_ had ever seen. He had never been more pleased to show _anyone_ about Minas Tirith, and at that point he could think of nothing he would rather be doing then spending time with Enguina. As Aragorn had still not made his presence known, Enguina had still not made his acquaintance and though Legolas had wanted to speak with him about the coming day as well, he was clearly on his own. It had been a very, _very_ long time since he had given thought to the presence of a woman in his life.

He looked over at Enguina and saw that she had a smile on her face. He wished that she would do it more often. That smile lit her features as the sunlight that shone on them, and it made his even wider. A peace came over his heart that he had not ever felt before, and he had a sudden desire to reach out and take her hand. Immediately, he restrained himself. She had been _very_ cautious to never allow the two of them alone for any amount of time. He had been nothing but trustworthy of course, but he found that wherever Éowyn went, Enguina followed—no matter what. It was as though she did not wish to have anything to do with him—but no, perhaps that was going too far. It was not that extreme; she did not mind his presence, but it felt to him as though she was deliberately trying to keep him as far away as possible.

Éowyn was pleased with the way the day was going. It was not yet time to have their lunch, and they were almost at the market, which meant they would have time to enjoy the food there. That delighted her, for she loved many of the foods they sold, and it would be quite wonderful to introduce Enguina to foods that she had never seen or tasted. She shifted Andúnêiel higher in her arms and smiled to her. "Tomorrow, sweet girl…tomorrow."

Enguina turned her head, and ran her fingers through the little child's short hair. "What is tomorrow, Éowyn? What is so important about it?"

Éowyn laughed. "Oh, I forgot that of course you would not know. You have only been here three days! Tomorrow is my little girl's birthday!"

Enguina's eyes widened. "How wonderful! And how old will she be?"

"Two…two years since she was born." Legolas looked around Enguina.

"And she is as lovely as her mother," he said with a smile. Enguina looked at him, and Éowyn gave him a bright grin.

"Why, Legolas, you are too kind. Surely you should bestow such compliments on those who are more deserving!" She laughed and kissed the child's cheek.

Legolas raised his eyebrows at her. "I am certain Faramir would disapprove of your talk. He would tend to agree with me."

"But he is _Faramir_. He is blinded by his love."

Legolas shook his head and laughed, looking away from her. "I cannot agree with you Éowyn; love is not blind."

"Do you not believe so?" asked Enguina softly, as though something now weighed heavily on her mind. Legolas turned his face toward her and gave her a very gentle smile.

"Nay, dear Lady, I do not. Love is true when each person sees the other for who they really are. Love is not real love if one cannot understand another; it would then simply be a fleeting passion based on what a person _appears_ to be. Such a thing is not love, and therefore, love cannot be blind. I do not mean to say that I do not believe that one cannot love in a short time, for Ilúvatar plants His own will in such hearts…" His voice faded off into the sound of the wind in her ears, and she studied him, "In fact, I have seen such love myself."

"You mean such as the commonly discussed love between Arwen and her husband," she said in a soft voice, wondering what it was exactly that _was_ between them. Legolas smiled.

"Yes…sort of like that. Aragorn knew from the hour he met her that he was meant to love her and her only. This is what he tells me."

Enguina gave a soft sigh. "She said she did not know until much later. But he knew at first sight?" She shook her head. "He was attracted by her looks then."

Legolas looked at her weary face and gave her another gentle smile. "I cannot say that it was or was not, but everyone must have something that attracts another person. Perhaps it _was_ the fact that Arwen was dancing there among the birches and Aragorn had never seen a more beautiful vision. He said he thought he was dreaming, as he had been singing the Lay of Lúthien as he walked through the trees and there she appeared."

Enguina laughed. "Such a line!" she scoffed. "Only a mortal would say such a ridiculous thing."

Legolas grinned at her, shaking his head. "Do not be so critical!" he laughed. "He was young, and impetuous. I do not know what Arwen first thought of those words; you shall have to ask her if you wish to know. But, whatever she thought, they had some effect on her. Mortals may have interesting 'lines' as you say, but they appear to work for them."

"We are here!" laughed Éowyn suddenly, taking hold of Enguina's arm and guiding her gently toward the market. Enguina's eyes widened and her feet stilled as she stared at the tents and the people, and the woman laughed again. "Well, do not simply stare! Come! Let us see what wares they have for sale today…and we shall eat their wonderful food."

Enguina glanced back at Legolas, and he laughed softly. "Follow Éowyn and her little child, dear Lady; she shall not lead you astray, and I shall be right behind you."

Éowyn had moved to the front of the market, and Enguina swallowed. It was the people she did not think she could handle, the massive crowd bumping her on all sides. "Is...is the whole market this busy?" she asked softly, and he stepped up to her side.

"This is the entrance, so it is always bustling," he replied in soft tones like hers. "Is it the crowd that bothers you, my Lady?" He noticed that she had wrapped her arms around herself and her hands were gripping her elbows. He tried to touch her elbow gently, but he ended up laying a hand over hers.

"It _is_ a bit crowded," she whispered, noting his warm hand. "I do not do well in large groups." She imagined all the bumping and touching and she desperately tried to control her shudder. "Perhaps it would be better—"

"Let me walk beside you," he offered softly, reaching around to lay a hand on her back. "Perhaps that will help." She seemed undecided, worried, so he took a step forward, letting his hand guide her forward as well. Enguina took a step with him and so he continued with her, moving her gently toward the market.

* * *

The market was wonderful, and the people there were even more so. Between Éowyn's laughter and Legolas' gentle smiles, Enguina was having a wonderful time. With Legolas's hand at her back, he kept the press of the people away, and Éowyn was before her, leading her on. She had a leader and a guide, and she felt much safer within the crowd. The food had also been very good, and it was now moving on toward late afternoon—nearly time to leave and return to the King's House for dinner where Arwen was cooking tonight. Both Legolas and Éowyn knew the best shops and would not abandon her for a moment, and _that_ she was very thankful for.

She searched a craftsman's wares for something to purchase for her friend. As she was here at the market, she thought she should acquire something for her host, and also because it had been long since Arwen had been there. She wanted Arwen's face to glow with delight, and she wanted to be responsible for it. Perhaps she should get something for the King, but she knew not what sort of person he was and had no idea at all of what sort of gift he might enjoy.

Moving towards the next stall, Legolas at her side, she found several small outfits that caught her eye. The sudden thought of Arwen's babe made her smile. She tried to picture a little Elvish princeling in them, but then she reminded herself that Arwen's child would not glow with immortal life, and then it upset her. Why had Arwen chosen such a miserable fate? She sighed to herself as she felt the cloth on one of them. _This man had better prove himself worthy of my friend._ She turned, meeting Legolas's eyes.

He bowed his head to her with a smile, and looked down at her hands. "Something for Arwen?" he asked softly, a glimmer of light in his eyes. Enguina nodded.

"Yes, but I am unsure what to purchase. I have no idea what a blend of Arwen and a complete stranger would look like, and so I am having a bit of trouble."

Legolas laughed at her choice of words. "Picture a rather unruly child with gentle eyes and dark hair and the most compassionate to ever walk the earth; though it will be difficult to surpass his parents."

Enguina laughed softly, and the sound was brushed against Legolas' ears by the wind, and sounded just as graceful. "Unruly?" she questioned, looking at him.

"Well, certainly. Both of them are stubborn, and so the child shall be even more so. Aragorn was a Ranger, a Wildman, before he became King; sometimes he still rebels…though very little. He has too many responsibilities now."

"But then how do they compromise if they are both stubborn?" Enguina found herself teasing the elf.

Legolas smiled. "Mostly they do not have to…they are as one thought and so they usually agree, until it comes to the protection of one or the other. That is where the arguments, and they are _small_ arguments mind you, tend to begin."

"Do they _never_ fight?" she asked, looking at him incredulously. He shrugged and gave another laugh.

"I am not with them at all hours of the day, but I have never heard them fight. I have known both since they were just children, and though I have walked Middle-Earth for many long years, I have never seen love such as theirs. Read about it," he said thoughtfully, "was told stories about it…but never saw it until they were wed."

"I hope he deserves her," she said softly and then before he could respond, she sighed. "What was she thinking…choosing a mortal? Why would an immortal marry a mortal? It is…so hard to wrap my mind around it."

"She was in love," Legolas said softly. "It…it _is_ difficult to understand when we have been taught for so long how precious our immortality is. For her to sacrifice that for him…it seems strange, unnatural. Your thoughts mirror my own when I first heard of their great love, but I have come to understand it. You have not yet met him, and so when you do you shall have to make your own judgment about him. If Arwen's decision was reasonable or not, well…you shall have to decide for yourself."

"Yes," she said wryly, "he is somewhat elusive." She did not wish to get into an argument with Legolas over Arwen's husband, so she changed the subject. "Legolas, in all my long years, I have never been to Eryn Lasgalen. What is your home like?"

"Hmm…" Legolas replied thoughtfully, "I have not been there in a few years, though I imagine it looks much the same. I would normally say it had become a frightful place, but after the Great War and the Fall of Sauron, my Father did much with Lord Celeborn to chase out the evil there. It has become a beautiful place again, though there are still some evil creatures about, like goblins and spiders now and again."

"Spiders?" she asked with a laugh. "Are there not spiders everywhere?"

"My Lady, you have no idea of the _size_ of the spiders in Greenwood. They can grow larger than a man, and wider than a horse."

She stared at him and then scoffed. "You are toying with me."

"No!" he laughed. "No, I would never dream of it; I do not know you quite well enough yet." He _was_ teasing her there, but she could see he was serious about the spiders.

She grinned at him, and repeated, still incredulously, "Man-size spiders?"

"Indeed! But my father's realm is within tunnels beneath the ground, so they are well-protected."

"I had heard that there were tunnels in Thranduil's realm. My brother told me of them, as he and other elves were often messengers between our realms. It must be so strange to be underground! How do you do it?" She shuddered, thinking of a cave.

"We are not often a closed-in people, and you are used to being in the trees all of your life," he replied. "But my father's realm is in caverns, not caves, and they are spacious. The 'tunnels' are as wide as these streets, large enough for many horses."

"Oh," she said, "perhaps that would not be so bad. It is still so strange to me that I never knew that you and Arwen were friends." She shook her head. "Arwen spoke that you have been her friend since _childhood_."

Legolas smiled again as she looked down to the clothes once more. "Indeed, though I do not think as good a friend as you. It surprises me that I have never heard of _you_ ; she had never mentioned anyone who she would have known as well as you." Enguina's eyes rose to his and a laugh was in them.

"Then we are quite equal, Legolas, for not before I arrived had I ever heard her speak of you. Arwen is…quite adept at hiding things," she said, shaking her head. "She hid her love of a man so long that I did not know it until I heard rumors in Lothlórien that she had married." She laughed then. "I was so angry she had not sent word!"

"Things happened a bit fast after the War was ended," Legolas admitted. "Has it been so long since you have seen her?"

Enguina nodded. "She and I had not seen one another for nearly thirty years. But…there were reasons for her secrecy," she replied softly, reaching out to pay the vendor for the small outfit she was purchasing for Arwen's child. Legolas frowned, but decided that he would not ask to what she referred; it seemed as though a story for another time…one that should be told when they knew one another better. Enguina glanced over to him and listened to his respectful silence. She tilted her head slightly as a light blush covered her cheeks. "Thank you for not asking."

He bowed his head to her, and she moved on slightly ahead of him, thinking of his thoughtfulness, his hand on her back. He was funny…charming…and handsome… _Oh, Enguina, he is more than handsome, look again!_ She glanced back at him, and the sight of his ready smile for her made her smile back suddenly. She turned her eyes forward once again, and then her smile faded. She could not do this again…she _should_ not, _could_ not lend her trust so easily. But he was making it _so easy_ for her to like him… _very much_. How could she turn away and simply ignore the feelings moving within her…feelings that she thought she would never feel again?

Behind her, she heard his footsteps stop, and she turned around to see why he had.

"Do you mind? I know him."

"Not at all," she said, and he smiled at her and then moved toward a nearby merchant. Legolas seemed to know the man well, or at least their laughter seemed genuine as he clasped the man's arm. She smiled and then began looking around her. There was a tavern nearby and a few other vendors. Another had some fruit for sale, and Enguina thought perhaps that should be her next stop. She did not see Éowyn anywhere, and Legolas was only right behind her, and there were not many people about. She felt secure enough to move to the other side of the street.

Out of nowhere, she felt a hand on her arm. Startled, she tried to spin about to see who it was, but another hand took hold of her other forearm just below the elbow, and held her in place. Panic settled around her heart like a shroud.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a market, hmm?" said a man's voice from behind her; her eyes closed when she smelled the overpowering stench of alcohol on his breath. "Are you for sale?" he asked in a softer tone, and she pulled on her arms to try and free herself.

" _Please_ … _let me go_!" she whispered breathlessly, her words stumbling out of the sudden fear that welled inside her. There was a soft laugh from behind her as her heart began to race like a herd of frightened deer.

"I'm not gonna _hurt_ you…" and the way his voice lowered frightened her even more. She shivered with fear, paralyzed by it, and she heard the man laugh behind her. "You smell sweet…like spun sugar."

Her stomach flipped and terror swamped her. "Let...let me go!" she gasped out, yanking her right arm. His fingers tightened.

"With skin this soft, I bet I'd make you tremble all night," his voice fell on her ears and she could have retched there on the street such was her horror at his words. Suddenly, a shadow covered the sun in her eyes and she looked up.

" _What are you doing_?" the voice snapped, and the blurred shadow came into focus, the once light-voice now harsh and terrible. Legolas stood before her, his icy, furious eyes boring holes into the man she knew stood just behind her. She could hear her breaths coming in gasps; she worked to slow them.

"Just taking a little look at the beautiful wares in the market." As Legolas looked on him, he saw drunken eyes, brown hair, and a nose that had been hit too many times in tavern brawls. It made him even more irritated when he referred to Enguina that way, and his eyes darkened.

"Release the Lady… _immediately_." Enguina closed her eyes, but at hearing his words, a bit of her terror decreased; someone was here, this was going to stop now. It was _Legolas_ who was frightening; his eyes were ice, his left hand extended to take her elbow when his demand was met, his right hand balled into a fist. The man understood this message instantly, but he was too slow in responding to it. He made certain his fingers dragged slowly along her right arm, and the elf reached forward with his other hand as quick as a flash and caught the man's wrist, twisting it away. His left hand took Enguina's left arm and moved her away beside and behind him. Her knees shook.

"Immediately means _now._ " He spoke and the deathly quiet in his voice brought a jump from the man who completely backed off. Legolas did not release her though his hand moved to her shoulder as he pressed himself gently between them. Behind them, Enguina heard a baby begin to cry, but Legolas' eyes were fixed on the man who could never have stared him down. "Get away from here," he ordered. "Go sleep away your drunkenness. And do not ever let me see you in this state again."

Whether the man understood the threat or no, he gave Enguina a second look, and though she tried to tug her eyes away that look made her shiver beneath Legolas's hand in remembrance…the eyes of a thousand nightmares.

Legolas stepped in between their look, pressing Enguina directly behind him and out of sight, and when he snarled, she startled enough to stare at the back of his neck. " _I said get away!_ " The man gave him a filthy look, but Legolas took a step forward and he finally backed off, retreating into the shadows and down an alley.

There were several onlookers by this point, but Legolas turned, ignoring them and pressing his hand to Enguina's back again. "It is time to for us to leave," he said bitterly, and she chanced a glance at him—and saw his eyes for a moment as he had chanced to glance at her. Legolas' eyes had only caught hers for a moment before she lowered her own quickly, but in his eyes she found gentleness and compassion, worry and strength… she could not face them. In hers, Legolas had seen terror and horror for the slightest moment, and he realized as she looked away that whatever beginning he had made with her over the last few hours was dashed into the cobblestones. He began to lift his hand from her back, but then realized that was a terrible idea; she needed his strength right now.

Suddenly, out of the small crowd of onlookers, Éowyn appeared from a nearby vendor. "What _happened_?" she asked, as she rocked Andúnêiel for the child had become upset at seeing Legolas angry. He frowned at her as the woman's eyes searched Enguina's face, and he reached out to gently stroke the young child's head. "I thought you were going to strike him!"

"A drunkard…" Legolas said softly, and gave meaningful eyes to Éowyn. "I believe it is time to make our way home to supper. Arwen shall be waiting for us." _At least there you shall have nothing to fear._ Éowyn shook her head.

"She needs to sit down," she said firmly, and Legolas turned to look at Enguina's face. Her skin was pale and her eyes were closed; she looked as though she was going to be sick. He took her arm.

"No, I am…I am fine…" she whispered, but her voice was weak even to her ears. She felt his hand tighten a bit and he moved her off to sit on a set of stone steps. She did not know or care where they were, but she sat when he guided her, and she felt Éowyn take a place beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Legolas take Annî, but his eyes were fixed on her. Éowyn put her arm around her, squeezing her shoulders. Leaning her head in her hands, Enguina tried to slow her racing heart.

"Are you sure you are all right?"

"I just…I only need a moment, thank you."

Enguina could hear Legolas chasing other people away from them by stating that she was fine, that everything was all right, as there were many who had seen him respond and become infuriated with the drunk. Éowyn looked up at Annî in his arms, who was still teary-eyed.

"Do not fret, little lamb," she soothed, rubbing her hand along Enguina's back. "Legolas was only protecting; everything is all right." Enguina listened, feeling comforted by her words and the tone of Éowyn's voice even though they were not meant for her. She raised her head slowly, the sick feeling in her stomach fading as she met Legolas's eyes.

"Hannon le, Legolas," she said softly, reverting back to her native tongue without thinking.

"Tiëve; ú-moe hannon, [Of course, there is nothing to thank me for,]" he replied softly.

* * *

Dinner had gone well as planned, though for the third night in a row, Aragorn had not arrived. The two good friends now sat silently in Enguina's home; their talk would have been within Arwen's except that Arwen was not about to allow Enguina to walk home alone and it was late already. The state of Enguina's mind was of constant concern to her. She had told little of her experience at the market, and had said little of Legolas or if she had been having a good time before they had returned to the King's House for dinner. Arwen had prepared tea over the fire for them both, and she knew that the tale was painful in the telling as Enguina's eyes grew misty as they drank it. Enguina's eyes were fixed on her cup, and Arwen was growing increasingly frustrated.

Arwen set down her cup and reached forward to take Enguina's hands. "Enguina, you have barely spoken three words together since you came to dinner, and Legolas was fairly silent as well unless he was speaking to you. _Please_ , I can bear it no longer. You must tell me what happened. You must!"

Enguina simply stared at her a moment. "What does it matter, Arwen? I am as I always have been; I shall never change," she said, her eyes growing tired and she lowered them. Arwen lifted her hand and raised Enguina's chin.

"Oh no, _I_ do not believe you," Arwen stated, shaking her head. "That might work when I do it to you, but I will not let you leave it there. There was much more to this day than you speak, and certainly more than you tell me with your words that I see now in your eyes."

"Arwen, please…" she begged, closing her eyes. "Ask Legolas…let him tell you."

"And what does your quiet have to do with him?" There was hesitation and then Arwen sighed. "Enguina, how can I help you if you do not tell me? _Tell_ me."

"There was a man at the market who tried to…who threatened to…he was drunk and he wanted to…" She was stumbling and stuttering over her words, but she could not help it. She did not even know what to say.

" _What_?" Arwen forced out. "Someone at the market tried to do _what_?"

"He said he was going to touch me, make me… _tremble_." She shuddered and raised her eyes to Arwen's smoldering ones.

" _What?_ " she breathed out, her nails digging into Enguina's hands.

"He had me in his _hands_ —"

"His…who—"

"I do not know," she whispered. "I did not see his face…his eyes…" She swallowed, suddenly sick to her stomach, and she tried to laugh but her voice came out as a gasp, "oh, I remember those only too well."

Arwen leaned forward, releasing Enguina's hands and drawing her into her arms, holding her close. "Dear Ilúvatar in Heaven," she whispered, "were you hurt?"

"Not…physically, no. But I…I was right back there, in that place, under his hands…god, Arwen…it was _so awful_." Her eyes were full of tears again, and there was nothing she could do to prevent them from falling. "I froze…it would have been… _horrible_ …if Legolas had not been there."

"Legolas?" Arwen queried, her attention drawn from furious anger to surprise. "What does Legolas have to do with it?"

"He stopped the drunk. He was watchful; he was my guide; he stood between me and the crowd. Nearly all day he protected me," she continued softly, seriously. "He was…Legolas was so angry. His eyes were _furious_ …so enraged was he, but…"

Arwen waited for her to continue, but when she did not, she hugged her even more tightly. "But what, Enguina? What is it?"

"His hands…" she said softly, looking down at her own and shaking her head, "his hands were as yours are now. They were gentle, but there was something else beneath them. They were protective and strong…even," she suddenly broke into a coarse laugh, "do I even dare speak of it—tender? I do not know about such things, but they seemed to me unlike any hands I have known. I felt as if I could be weak under them, but I would still be strong." She leaned back and looked up into Arwen's face. "It was so strange, and yet…not so strange. Oh, do not listen to me! I am speaking in circles."

Arwen laughed softly and smiled at her friend. "I know what it is you speak of; strength can come out of weakness. When you are weak, there are people that you can trust to take care of you. You felt as though you could trust him."

"He protected me…and Éowyn comforted me," she said softly. "It was a difficult few moments, but we finally made our way out of the Market to somewhere quiet where I could collect myself."

"Legolas stayed with you?"

"It seems that he wanted to be sure I was all right," Enguina admitted softly, but she herself knew that it _must_ be more than that. Surely, she had seen something other than joy at her company in his eyes when he drew her away from the drunkard; it was desire to protect her, to see her safe…it was much more than that he enjoyed her company, much more than he wanted to see that she was fine.

"Does it seem that way to you? Nothing more?" Arwen asked, simply wondering out loud. In her heart she did not believe that Enguina would not notice things such as Legolas' eyes. At dinner, he had always responded to her first, was careful about the way he said things. She believed that her two friends should better get to know one another, and was hoping for it all the time. There was certainly something between them; running from it, no matter how quickly, would not help her if she did find feelings for Legolas. Inwardly, Arwen gave a wry smile; how she remembered the time she had tried to run!

"No, you are right," Enguina then admitted, releasing Arwen's hand to reach for her cup again. "There is more to Legolas' feelings than I see. His face…lights with…how embarrassing this is!" she cried with a short laugh as she looked away, hiding the blush on her cheeks. She covered her face with her hand.

Arwen reached up and pulled them away. "With?"

"It is more than simple pleasure at my company. He protected me," she said softly. "And the way his hand rested on the small of my back…" She closed her eyes in memory of the day. "No, it is more than that…and I am afraid."

"It _is_ terrifying," Arwen agreed with her.

"What?" Enguina asked, surprised, opening her eyes to look at her again.

"It is terrifying," Arwen admitted, "to think you might feel something _more_ for someone, more than ordinary." She smiled at the expression on Enguina's face. "Does it shock you to hear me say that?"

"Well, yes. I did not expect—"

"Enguina, it took me over thirty years to admit I was in love with Aragorn! How do you think I felt? Do you think I was afraid?"

"I…cannot even imagine you afraid."

Arwen laughed. "Come now, I was afraid of _everything_! I did not know what to think, what to do, and my hands trembled _constantly_ …" She shook her head. "And that is _all right_. Love is supposed to be like that!"

"To be terrifying? I think not."

She laughed again. "To be _new_! All new experiences are frightening in their own way."

"Let us not speak of love," Enguina said wryly. "Do you not think you are getting a bit carried away?"

"Not really," Arwen stated.

"I do not know anything _about_ love, Arwen. I have never felt…this way before, comfortable under someone's attentive gaze. I never had felt comfortable under _his_ gaze, so this is new."

Arwen frowned. "But you _can_ feel comfortable under Legolas's."

"Can you promise me that?" she asked softly. "Will you swear it?"

"I need not swear," Arwen replied honestly, "my word is enough. Legolas is…he is _nothing_ like the other. _Nothing_. And," Arwen said teasingly, "you say you know nothing about how love feels, yet you _do_ know exactly what it does _not_ feel like…so no matter what, you know this is nothing like that."

A faint smile appeared on her face. "No, nothing like it at all. And I _do_ feel comfortable…and that is what makes me more nervous than _before_." She gave a soft laugh. "I just simply do not know if I can _allow_ myself to do what it is that you are asking of me."

Arwen reached out and wrapped her hands around Enguina's for a moment. "I ask nothing of you except to give Legolas a chance," she said seriously, and then gave her a bit of a grin, "and allow yourself to fall madly in love with him if that be your fate!" Enguina laughed at her.

"You are mad, Arwen, but I love you in spite of that. I shall try…I shall try, but I can promise you nothing."

Arwen smiled at her. "That is all I wish for."

" _All_ you wish for?" Enguina asked, raising an eyebrow. "I believe I saw another wish in your eyes just this evening as we sat about your dinner table, even if I _was_ only half paying attention." Arwen noticed Enguina's eyes growing dark, but she was distracted by the question her friend had asked.

"Was there? I do not recall _wishing_ anything while I was at the dinner table tonight."

"Well, I could see it in your eyes," she stated. "You were wishing that your husband would return for dinner once this century!"

Arwen rolled her eyes. "Do not confuse your desire to meet Aragorn with a worry on my part. The only thoughts I had for Aragorn were for his safety and a prayer for it; that is all. You read into things too much! Enguina, he is the King! He has many calls to answer."

"Can he not at least _tell_ you when he is not going to return so you are not awake until all hours of the morning waiting for him?"

Arwen shook her head. "Unexpected things do come up, Enguina, and I am not awake 'till very early. I sleep; I simply leave a light on for him."

"Arwen, come now! You cannot believe that he is out so late always working!"

She raised her eyebrows, wondering what in the world he would be doing if not working that late. "Can I not? What other reason would he have to be out so late? There is none that I can think of. What can you mean?"

Enguina simply looked at her. "You can think of _nothing_?" she said, and when Arwen continued to stare at her, she shook her head. "Let us not speak of this anymore. Perhaps I _am_ simply waiting to meet him and am anxious about such things, add to that overly apprehensive and a bit suspicious…and you have a rather bad combination of traits."

The younger elf shook her head and gave a laugh. "I do not think 'bad' is quite the word I would use for your traits, Enguina. But if you say so, I shall not deny you; it is true you are very suspicious of the world. You must learn to feel safer in this place." But then she suddenly frowned. "I have never, _ever_ , heard a report of someone being…assaulted at the Market. I am…disgusted that such a thing—"

"It is not anyone's fault. This is _me…_ I tend to draw trouble wherever I go." She sighed. "As I said before, I shall try to do what you ask. I am trying to give myself a chance." A smile then came upon her face. "Oh! I almost forgot!" She rose and reached over on the mantle, lifting a small package. She reached over and handed it to Arwen. "Indirectly, this is for you," she stated with a laugh.

Arwen opened it and laughed with delight. "Oh, Enguina! This little outfit shall be _perfect_! Wait until I show it to Aragorn! He will adore this; oh, thank you so much!" She reached forward and hugged her friend hard. "This is _wonderful_!"

"I am so glad that you love it! I had hoped so!"

"So what is your plan for tomorrow? Where are you off to?" she asked with a laugh.

"I am to see the opposite part of Minas Tirith that I have not yet seen. Once again, I am journeying with Éowyn and Legolas, much to your liking I am sure. I shall also be traveling with the birthday girl," she said with a laugh, "such a nice occasion to be present for!"

"I am certain tomorrow night's celebration shall be quite a delight!" Arwen replied with a smile, and she hoped within her heart that Aragorn might be present for it.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: "Great is Thy Faithfulness" is a Traditional Hymn, and it is not owned or written by me! Thanks!

* * *

"Good evening, Gimli," sighed Legolas as he fell into a chair in front of their hearth. The dwarf looked at him, and he wondered why the elf seemed so tired. "Did you feel that dinner was well?" Legolas looked over at him as he rubbed his forehead.

Gimli let out a hearty belch, and laughed when Legolas grinned and shook his head. "I thought supper was incredible! Arwen is the most wonderful cook I've ever known."

Legolas laughed and nodded. "She _is_ very good. I only wished that Aragorn could have been here as well to enjoy it. Once again he misses his dinner."

Gimli shrugged. "Well, he's got a kingdom to run, lad."

Legolas nodded again. "I know, Gimli. Of course he does, and there is no better to rule it than he. But I am fairly certain that he would give just about anything to simply help and not be head…and to see his wife for a few hours."

"I'd say that you'd be right on that account."

"How was the wall building today? You are still alive; that is a good sign," he offered with a twinkle in his eye. "It means that you can survive without your friend beside you constantly."

"Aye, lad…but only for a day," Gimli said stubbornly, but he winked at Legolas.

The elf winced, and looked at Gimli with guilt. "What about two days?"

The dwarf sighed hugely. "Well, I suppose a dwarf can't get killed in two days, and I should suppose today went well then." Legolas was silent. Gimli looked at him closely. "No? What happened? Doesn't she return your affections?"

Legolas laughed and blushed slightly, the first time Gimli had ever seen him truly embarrassed. _Figures it would be over a woman!_ "It is difficult to explain, Gimli, and also frustrating. Not her exactly, but the situation. Something, a long time ago, must have hurt her very deeply. She needs to open up to someone…I doubt that will be me."

"Surely Arwen knows what's the matter with her."

"I do not wish to ask such questions. It would be unfair to Enguina."

"Well, she seems nice enough, though she doesn't speak to me. I'm sure it's another one of those dwarf/elf quarrels, as the one I had with Haldir when we first met."

Legolas laughed. "Luckily, none of the elves present knew what it was you said, or there would have been no more Gimli." The dwarf chuckled.

"Surely not! I didn't know at that time _Aragorn_ spoke dwarvish, or I wouldn't have spoken a word to anyone, and certainly not a curse." He sipped from his mug. "But tell me of this day with the Lady. Was it all that bad?"

"No," said Legolas, shaking his head, "it was indeed well until the very end. I had thought after the incident that occurred at the market before we returned for dinner that it would be hopeless to convince her to go anywhere outside of her own room. Thankfully, Ilúvatar has answered my prayer and granted me another chance to spend time with her. There is always the will of good and the will of evil at work in the world, Gimli," Legolas sighed.

"What was so horrible that happened at the market? What could possibly go wrong _there_?" Legolas frowned.

" _Everything_. There was a drunkard there who grabbed her." Legolas' eyes flashed, and Gimli's eyebrows rose. "I stepped in, but not before he had spoken some…inappropriate words. It made me angry…so angry that someone would even _look_ at a woman like that…"

Gimli snorted. "Many men look at women like that; I find it hard to imagine you've never noticed them before. Haven't you ever seen the looks men give Arwen as she moves past them? None of them would dare anything, for Aragorn's wrath would be swift and terrible, but I tell you some men only believe a woman's for one thing."

"That is despicable," Legolas said, horrified.

"Think they're playthings or something," Gimli continued, "and I hate it as much as you, lad. Men like that should be—"

"Hanged," he said softly, "and they should also be taught to limit their alcohol consumption."

Gimli laughed. "Aye, lad, but there are good drinkers!"

"Yes, responsible ones," he replied and began to smile, "but they are not whom I speak of. I simply must now keep my eyes sharp for anything that might offend her. I must watch every move I make."

"That is doing a lot for a person. Do you like her that much?"

Legolas stared back at the dwarf, wondering. Did he? Had he ever felt this way in all of his days in Middle-Earth? He had felt love before in his many years, but nothing like this. He imagined for so many years that he would never know what he thought Aragorn felt for Arwen…now he was fairly certain he had discovered it himself.

"I _am_ in love with her, Gimli. I know that it sounds strange, and I do believe that it is, but I cannot help the seed of love that has been sown in my heart from Ilúvatar. I can see that she is my path, but the line I must walk is straight and narrow. I shall do whatever it takes to hold onto her love…if I can earn it first."

"I believe you will, elf. Don't worry so much over it; if it is meant to be by the will of Eru, than it shall come to pass. Simply do the right, and it will happen."

Legolas laughed. "One day I wish to have your trust, Gimli. I have faith, but in some circumstances it is difficult to stand back and allow it to happen. Especially this one."

"If she's going to love you, miserable elf, she will; just continue to be who you're supposed to be, and she'll fall madly in love with you." Legolas laughed and so did he; he stood. "I hear my bed calling, and I'd better answer it." He looked at the elf and smiled. "My kin and I will miss you on the wall tomorrow."

"And I you," he said with a smile. "I shall be thinking of you."

Gimli shook his head. "Think only of the lass tomorrow, elf." He watched him a moment. "You're going to sleep…right?"

Legolas nodded. "Surely…in a few moments. Good night, Gimli."

"Mén dî…or whatever it is you say," he grumbled softly, and Legolas burst into laughter.

"Mān dú is what we say for 'good night', my friend!"

Gimli chuckled softly and shrugged. "I was close, eh?"

Legolas stood and clapped his hand on his shoulder. "That you were, mellon nîn."

Gimli smiled. "Ah! I _do_ know the meaning of _some_ Elvish words! Good night, friend." The dwarf turned from him and moved into the adjoining room to change from his day-clothes. Legolas turned back to the hearth and thought of the day that would come.

* * *

She hated the idea of disturbing Faramir so late, but there was no way she was going to wait a whole day before she had a chance to speak with someone, and she had no idea when Aragorn was going to arrive at home. Arwen had tried to leave the guesthouse at a reasonable hour, but that had not worked out as she had planned either, so finding herself knocking on Faramir's door at nearly ten in the evening was a bit late. The door was a while in opening, but it did open.

"Faramir," she said softly, "I am sorry to trouble you. Is Éowyn asleep?" He rubbed his rather blurry eyes and she frowned before he could even respond. "Forgive me; you were asleep as well," she added guiltily.

"Forget it," he said, looking at her seriously, though he did lean against the doorframe. "What do you need, Arwen? Is something the matter?"

"Something _is_ the matter, something that needs looking after, though everyone is all right at the moment. I…I am worried about Enguina's safety."

He stood upright immediately. "Is she all right?"

"She is at the guest quarters quite safe at the moment," she replied. "But I am worried about her in the City. She said Éowyn knew what happened, so I assumed that perhaps she had mentioned—"

"She did tell me what happened at the market," Faramir admitted. "I was…furious when she told me. That something like that would happen in broad daylight in Minas Tirith! Unheard of, Arwen! Éowyn stated that the man had been drunk—"

"Yes," Arwen said softly, "Enguina said she could smell the whiskey on his breath. Thankfully, Legolas was there to protect her, but…" She hesitated and then sighed. "Faramir, she is my closest friend…I do not want something like this to happen to her ever again."

"What can I do?" he offered. "I assume that you would have gone to Aragorn if you could, but you came to me for a reason. How can I set your mind at ease?"

"Is there a way," she asked softly, "to place a rather discreet guard near her, to keep her safe? None of us want to see her hurt, and I would not want to see Legolas sitting in the stocks for a day."

Faramir smiled. "No, I would certainly not want Enguina to be hurt. Is it terrible to say I _would_ be amused to see Legolas in the stocks though?"

Arwen sighed. "Not for that price, Faramir."

"Of course not," he agreed. "But watching Legolas lay someone out would be worth watching. Perhaps for my birthday?"

Arwen raised an eyebrow. "Have we not seen enough anger come to fisticuffs in the last year? I think we have…some of it ending with _yours_."

He reached out and touched her cheek. "It was for good cause. No one who knew you at all would ever slander you like that. The councilman needed a thorough lashing; I just happened to get there first."

"And I thank you, for rising to my defense," she said, "but I would prefer it be unnecessary. Do you think that a guard would be possible?"

"Definitely," he replied, becoming serious again. "I will be sure to take care of it the moment I rise. Discrete is the main word, yes? You do not wish Enguina to know?"

"Heavens no!" she said with a laugh. "She would _kill_ me."

He laughed as well. "I will try to choose someone who will blend in a bit. Perhaps instead of armor, plain clothes would help?"

"Very clever, Faramir," she replied. "Thank you for protecting her."

"I will see to her safety."

* * *

It was not the first time the trio of men had met around the corner table in the dark tavern, nor would it be the last unless they were found out. They waited in the darkness for the one who would bring them news—news on their next movements. Each man had a strange light in his eyes, one that seemed to hide evil intentions. They sat quietly at first, drinking from their pints and keeping close watch on the door to make sure others did not get too close.

The three men did not look alike in feature but in stature they could have been of the same family. They were all tall and strong; the first had brown hair, a close-cut beard, and a squarish sort of nose that seemed to have been hit one too many times—his name was Dagnirhir. The second man was Ahadil—blonde with a cunning gaze, he sat with his back to the door and on his left was the only open chair at their table. The third Gondorian man was Belegore. He was the most intelligent of the three and the one who knew their informant the best. He had brown hair, but was without a beard and he was also the youngest. He sat facing the door, waiting without haste for their companion.

Ahadil sighed in annoyance, taking another long draught from his ale. "Where is that lout? He was supposed t'be here over an hour ago. I'm tired of waiting."

Dagnirhir nodded in grim agreement. "Aye. I hope nothing has happened to him, or we'll be in a great deal of trouble." He spoke with a slight sluggishness, and Belegore frowned. It never ceased to amaze him that his companion could not control his intake of the drink; it also disgusted him.

Then he noticed their friend enter, and he smiled, leaning closer to the table. "Is that not the truth? I swear, those elves are sly creatures. Give 'em a little and they will take everything. They are trouble; that much I can tell you both."

"Are we so much trouble, Belegore?" asked the new arrival, hooded and cloaked as he took his seat. The other men looked at Belegore expectantly, figuring he could talk himself out of it without much help.

"Yes, even more so than I spoke," he replied smiling, and a smile appeared underneath the hood in return. The man shook his head, tossing back the hood from his face and his fair Elven features came forth.

He was fair-haired and handsome, more so than any seated at the table without a doubt. He had bright, strange eyes that seemed almost violet, giving him an eerie look. Calendur was his name, elf from the realm of Mirkwood. His height was the same as theirs, but he seemed to have more experience in one glance than they, though he looked younger than Belegore.

"What kept you?" asked Dagnirhir. "We thought something horrible had happened to you." The Elven man smiled.

"You have little faith, Dagnirhir. It took longer than I expected to meet with my brother. He has been working very hard. Plans are in motion and going well. _Very_ well. But I have an added bone that I must pick with you, personally." Dagnirhir only raised an eyebrow and seemed uninterested. Belegore had a feeling he knew what it would be.

"What has he told you? What are our plans?"

"Have patience, Ahadil." The elf smiled at them slowly. "The other elves from Mirkwood are still making their plans for the attack, but they will be ready within the next two weeks, and we shall make our move."

"What is our target?" asked Dagnirhir as Calendur turned to him. His eyes narrowed in irritation, and he took the pint from the man's hand.

"I think you have had enough of this for one evening. To refresh your memory I shall repeat myself only one more time, and the next I shall kill you without another thought," he added coldly. "Our target," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, "as you have always known is the Queen. She is with child as we all know well, and she is the objective of our mission."

"That's right," said Dagnirhir a little too loudly, "we were supposed to be keeping our eyes on that Elvish slut—"

Calendur reached forward and snatched his tunic across the table. "Lower your voice or keep silent when I am speaking," he hissed, and then holding him closer to his face, said, "When I said close, I did not mean _that_ close, Dagnirhir. You were _seen_. You are supposed to remain in the shadows so that none shall know you. You do not _ever_ grow close enough to touch. Rein in your passions or I will have to kill you."

Ahadil shook his head. "Messin' with elves, are we? Is that so wise?"

Calendur smiled at him as he dropped Dagnirhir back to his seat. "My friend, you are already 'messing with elves.'"

"We have never been told why we were watching _her_ ," said Belegore softly. "What is the purpose?" He knew there was no one close enough to hear his words. Calendur scowled, and Belegore at once wished the question were not asked.

"Must you always know _why_ , Belegore?" The elf sighed and shook his head. "She is a link to the Queen. The only useful thing that Dagnirhir has done for us is find out that they are all very protective of her, especially the Prince. Because of this link to the Queen, we shall distract the King and his companions with her kidnapping. This way, the Queen shall be left behind, relatively unguarded. That shall be the time my brother will make his move."

Dagnirhir yawned slightly. "And _why_ are we doing this again?"

" _Why_?" Calendur sneered as his face changed completely to disgust. "You fools; is this simply a game to you? Dagnirhir, I tell you the kidnapping of this Elvish woman is a distraction for the real purpose. Our role is to draw away those who would prevent my brother's work. Have you forgotten our true purpose, gentlemen? Do we all remember that we are to make certain the heir of Elessar will never see the light of day?"

"Aye," snarled Ahadil, angered by the elf's words, "that blasted whelp should not appear on the throne. A Ranger from the North—that's lies, that is! Who said the man is the heir of Isildur? Where is the proof? I want t'see proof!"

"I want to see him dead!" whispered Dagnirhir fiercely, cracking his knuckles. "I want to face him in battle and utterly destroy him."

Belegore turned to Calendur with a frown. "How will all this work out, Calendur? I understand that we shall draw away the King and his companions by stealing the girl, but how will this allow your brother to dispose of a child not yet born?"

"My brother's companions will infiltrate the Citadel, quietly drawing off any guards from the Queen. Then, my brother shall go to the King's House and take care of her." Calendur smiled suddenly. "The daughter of Elrond will know poison for the first time in her life, and she will feel the bitter pain of illness, which elves do not feel. The poison will destroy her, little by little, taking the life of the child and her own…leaving the throne forever empty, for those who love are doomed to one love, and will take no other. Such will be the sorrowful story of the last King of Gondor." Belegore nodded as the others smiled, but he said naught.

The other men knew that this good would be carried out in victory for the Dark Lord, though he had been destroyed forever. It made little difference, for they would carry out his will even in his absence. The thought of no Elvish queen and no heir to the throne thrilled them to the core, and they ordered another round of drinks for themselves.

"Soon, Belegore," whispered Calendur to him as the others went to retrieve the drinks, "soon life will be good." He clasped his mortal friend's shoulder and Belegore gave him a faint smile.

* * *

Arwen opened her eyes once again to another morning filled with sunshine. She felt the coolness of the morning about her, and knew that it was late from the height of the sun. Why had she slept so long? She rolled over and nearly heaved; if she could have, she would have laughed at her own stupidity. Instead, she simply rubbed her face, breathed a sigh, and reached for Aragorn. The bed was cool; he had been gone for some time.

She sighed again. She had not even heard him come in last night and as she could see, the candle she had lit last evening lay reduced to slag. She sat up slowly, giving her body time to adjust accordingly, and she gently rubbed her stomach. Her mind wandered to thoughts of praying that he was all right; she had no way of knowing if he _had_ come in last night.

"Please, Ilúvatar, keep him safe," she said softly, and she rose from the bed. After making it, she turned about to go into the kitchen, and as she did she noticed a piece of parchment folded upon the table. She could not help but smile as she lifted it, and when she opened it, she saw Aragorn's perfect scrawl of runes across the page:

"Dearest Arwen. I write to you for I did not wish to wake you last evening. Know that I returned safely and was in no danger. There was something that needed to be looked after, and it was my responsibility to do so. Again, I regret that I was not there to enjoy the meal you had made, but rest well that I did have a little dinner. Asfaloth spoke to me to tell you that he misses you, and Brego told me to give you a kiss. As if I need to be told. I wish I could see your smile at that. I am certain that I shall return in time for the celebration. Again, forgive me for my tardiness. I pray that you shall feel well this morning. I love you so. Your beloved Aragorn."

Arwen could not help the smile that spread widely across her face as she finished the reading, and could also not help the prayer that went up from her heart to ask Ilúvatar to take care of him today in whatever it was that he was doing. She thanked Him for the message to let her know he was safe; Aragorn was always so thoughtful. She should have known that he would not leave her to guess what had happened, but she did wish she knew what little thing needed care. She moved to get dressed, her heart comforted.

* * *

The day had only grown better over the course of the last few hours that he had spent with Enguina. Surely, Legolas saw that she was having a fair time exploring the rest of the White City, and he found that the more time he gathered with her, she was no longer the stiff Elven woman that he had once met that evening in the King's House. He also found that his feelings toward her had only seemed to grow. They did not fail; with each laugh, each smile, and each passing glance she gave to him, his heart seemed to swell in his chest. There were times that when he stood near her, he was certain she would hear it beating.

This last place they had taken her was the stone church on the fifth circle of the City, where they all attended on the first day of the week. Never having been in a real church of men, Legolas had loved it dearly when he arrived in Minas Tirith, and it surprised him sometimes how much he did truly adore this world that Aragorn had led him into. It was a special place, dedicated to the worship of the One, and Legolas had always found that his voice seemed clearer and higher here, and it amazed him still.

The structure was made of grey and white stone, a place of praise and worship, peace and guidance for the lost. To Enguina, it seemed large and impersonal from the outside. She did not say much as they approached, but Legolas thought for sure when they entered that she would enjoy it immensely. As they moved in through the large wooden doors, the man who led the worship on those Sunday mornings stopped Éowyn, and he spoke to her about her young daughter's birthday. Enguina stopped to wait for her, but she nodded her inside.

"Go ahead; I shall only be a moment, friend," Éowyn said, and Enguina slowly nodded, moving inside through the doors. Legolas was close behind her.

The sanctuary was still and quiet as they moved through it, and Enguina sat down near the front, staring in wonderment at the ceiling and the intricate stone carvings along the walls. Legolas smiled at her.

"What is it that amazes you so, my Lady?"

"The stonework in here is astounding. I never knew that men could build such things. It is a beautiful temple," she said softly, but her voice carried in the large room. The elf slowly lowered himself into the seat beside her, and nodded.

"Indeed, it is. Faramir once told me the story of it from his childhood. His mother, in Ilúvatar's care now, directed its building before he was born. She knew every detail; she built it in praise of Eru for what He had done for her."

"A _woman_ built this?"

Legolas laughed softly. "Well, she did not physically _build_ it, but they were her hands that drew the plans. Faramir had spoken that there was much opposition, but she overcame it; now it is the main center of worship for the City. People can gather here together and fellowship with one another rather than in their own homes."

"I am sure that the singing in here would be quite wonderful."

Legolas nodded. "It is; whenever I am here, I could sing, and I do not know why. This sanctuary makes my heart feel so light, even though there are none here but the two of us."

Enguina turned her face toward him and gave him a short smile. "You sound so certain that Eru is here among us."

Legolas smiled at her. _Yes, dear Lady; I pray that it is His will that is bringing us together. And here, you feel not afraid of me._ "Yes, I believe that is right."

He looked at her closely, and she looked away, thinking of her own situation, and wondering what in the world she had been doing staring at him for so long. His eyes captivated her, and she wished that she had the strength to counteract whatever power was within them. She had felt herself slowly, all day it had seemed, being pulled in by his strength and wisdom. He knew much about this place, and he was willingly sharing it with her… _all of it_ with her, and also himself. She could see it in the way he moved; he had put his hand on her back this morning to guide her in the way they should go, and it had seemingly gone unnoticed, but not by her. It was as if Eru was reaching down to make her see that she needed him, and though her heart was willing to answer, but her head was not; her head was getting in the way. She wanted so badly to speak any words that would tell him something of how she felt when she was about him, but she could not do so.

He looked upon her gently, and he gave her a compassionate smile. "Do you desire peace, my Lady? You shall find it here if it is what you seek." His voice was soft and quiet, and she found that she could not turn to look into his gentle face. She simply could not bring her eyes to his, and she sighed with difficulty.

"I _do_ desire peace…" she said, and her voice was soft also, "but anywhere I turn it seems that I cannot receive it." She suddenly realized that she was speaking words to a stranger…but no, this elf was no stranger. She looked into his face then and met those piercing blue eyes, but they were not so piercing. They were gentle and held…something far more than protectiveness; no, it was far too precious to be simple protection, but what? "Peace," she continued, "does not come to me."

"Then pray, dear Lady. Eru shall hear your prayer and answer it, for all who ask for anything in His name shall receive it." Her eyes began to tear, and she looked away from him. He leaned forward, but she turned her face away even further so he could not see.

"I do not think He answers every prayer, Legolas," she whispered. "I used to seek him all the time, and now…I…have not spoken to him in years. He does not answer...He will not hear mine."

Legolas's heart lurched in his chest at her words and he reached out and covered her hand with his. She looked immediately down at their hands and he whispered gently, "There are…there are many times in our lives when we feel that we are furthest from the One. I do not know what troubles your heart, what pain you have suffered, but I know that distance you feel. Looking back on that time, on that time when I felt that Ilúvatar was furthest from me…that was the time he was _closest_. The time when I shoved Him away with every ounce of my strength; that was the time that he was there, _carrying_ me, _waiting_ for me to reach out for His strength to take me the rest of the way through my trouble, my great sadness. If…if you reach for Him, He will find you, my Lady."

She felt tears on her face and she reached up with the hand Legolas was not covering to wipe them away. "I…feel so _alone_ sometimes," she whispered. "I cannot see how Ilúvatar is there during that time. I cannot feel Him."

"Reach for Him," he replied, his fingers tightening over her hand, "and he will find you."

She _wanted_ to acknowledge and respond to his encouragement, to do as he asked; but for so long she had not sought Him…and she did not have the will to do so now. Her heart was so heavy; she could not look into his face, so she continued to hide, lowering her forehead to her hand and remaining there until she could force herself back into control. She felt Legolas rest his other hand on her shoulder blade, but he said no more.

Minutes passed as hours for them both, but neither moved, and the elf said a tender prayer for the Lady in his head. Legolas felt a whisper within his soul, and part of a song softly came from his lips. It was one that he knew well, and had sung many a time here in this sanctuary. He had not intended to sing at all, but something moved him, whether it was his quiet prayer or the pleading look that had been on Enguina's sweet face. He began to sing in a soft high voice, his eyes closed and his face filled with worship:

 _Great is thy faithfulness, O One of all_

 _There is no shadow of turning with thee_

 _Thou changest not, thy compassions they fail not_

 _As thou hast been thou forever wilt be_

 _Great is thy faithfulness, morning by morning new mercies I see_

 _All I have needed thy hand hath provided_

 _Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!_

The song brought peace to Enguina's heart, and in the next moment it frightened her. She knew that directly, Legolas was simply singing a song of praise to Eru, but indirectly it told her so much more. He was singing to encourage her that Eru would answer her prayers, but it was also a direct message to her of what he was offering. Eru could bring her peace through him, and already she felt it stirring in her heart that He had. He was _good_ to her; she felt the warmth in his hands. She could almost _know_ that as she looked over into his face, he could be the one…the one that could be at her side forever. He was not as anyone she had ever known…he was not as—

Enguina physically flinched, but Legolas had not seen it; his eyes had been closed, and as he turned to her, they were now open. His face was serene, but she forced herself to look away once more. "Your song moves my heart," she said softly, and she tried to hide her face from him so he could not see her wipe the tears from her eyes again. He looked at her and smiled gently.

 _As you move me, Enguina_. "It is Ilúvatar who asks the song to move your heart," he said softly. "Yet, I am glad that you needed the words, though I doubt it had anything to do with my singing."

 _Yes, Ilúvatar moves my heart when I hear your voice._ A small smile came across her face, and though she tried to hide it and ignore its existence, she could not. It gave Legolas the benefit of knowing that he had touched her in some way, and that in itself was important to him. On a level beneath what he saw, he had reached her. He smiled with joy in his heart.

"I am not so sure that you are correct," she said with a light laugh. "I believe it might have much to do with it." She looked at him closely, and sighed. "Such faith you have within you, Legolas. I would be delighted if one day I might have that same faith…that same joy."

His smile grew. "I promise you that one day…you shall."

A light appeared in her eyes. "You promise?"

He squeezed her hand within his own and she felt his fingers tighten on her shoulder, and for the first time since she arrived, she did not avert her eyes or back down from that advance. His fingers interlaced with hers for a moment, and he said softly, tenderly, "I promise, dear Lady."

"Legolas—" she began softly, and suddenly, Andúnêiel came running past where they were sitting. Legolas leapt to his feet, reached forward, and scooped her off the floor. He lifted her high into his arms with a swinging motion and she laughed, giving him a wide grin. He kissed her forehead gently as Enguina stood and Éowyn came hurrying down the aisle to get her.

"Oh, dear!" she laughed, as she extended her arms to take the child from Legolas. "I had just put her down and she went scooting off down the aisle!" She looked at the girl. "Just because it is your special day does not mean this sanctuary is not still Eru's House, child." She rubbed her nose against the little girl's, who giggled, and Éowyn raised her eyes to Enguina as the elf stroked the girl's red head. "Did you see the church? Is it not beautiful?"

"Indeed, it is amazing…more than I ever imagined," Enguina replied, and Éowyn smiled.

"Arwen had told me that you would like it, though she did not know how much, I am sure. But, it _is_ time to return to my home for the celebration. Come, both of you and follow me!" She gave a smile to Legolas, and turned and headed up the aisle. Enguina began to walk after her, but slowed so that she might walk beside Legolas a moment.

He once again rested his hand on her back, and she had expected it…had even yearned for it before his hand settled there. She gave him a smile that lit his heart even more than it already was, and he gently returned it.

"Legolas…" she said softly.

"Yes, my Lady?"

She smiled and though she hesitated, she reached up and touched her fingertips to his jaw. "Thank you," she said in that same soft voice, "for offering me your peace today."

"It was my pleasure, my Lady," he whispered in return. She looked at him.

"Please…Enguina."

As they stepped out into the light, Legolas felt a brush of Ilúvatar's peace, and he saw that Enguina felt it too as her eyes closed beneath it. He smiled; though it could have been simply the wind, he knew in his heart that it was more than that, just as they together were more than they were apart. He knew it deep within his soul. He bowed his head to her with a tender smile.

"I shall use it with reverence…Enguina," he said, his eyes filling with a joy that _she_ could not explain. But it sent both a thrill and a lasting peace over her heart to know that it touched him deeply to even speak her name…and that was a feeling she had never felt before.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: The song used in this chapter, "Suddenly," is from Les Miserables The Movie. I changed a few of the words, but the song is not owned, nor was it written, by me. Thanks!

* * *

Aragorn was very surprised. He had successfully achieved an entire day without any dreadful or unexpected news popping into it, whether from the people or one of his companions. But _that_ was an unusually normal day in the City: something was always going wrong, and then someone was always about to pick up the pieces and place them together the right way.

He shook his head and waved at a small child whose head was sticking out of a second-story window. She waved excitedly and ran back into the darkness of the house, certainly going to tell her brothers and sisters that the King had waved to her. He sighed; it was well to be loved by your people, but sometimes, the adoration went beyond what he was used to. He certainly believed it unnecessary for a Ranger who was more used to people despising him and giving their cold shoulders then loving him and rejoicing in the streets when he passed.

He continued on up the street, more than a little pleased at the thought of returning to dinner on time for the first time in a long time. Not only that, but this was not just _any_ dinner; this was the celebration of a second birthday. It would be nice to have dinner with his friends and Arwen, and then perhaps afterward, he could convince Arwen to take a walk over to see Gimli's kinsmen's craftsmanship on the new wall—

It was at that moment that he heard the cry of a lad coming up the cobblestone street. He turned abruptly at the sound, wondering immediately what the danger could be and where he was needed at that instant. The boy slowed before him, completely out of breath. Aragorn laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Slow down, son, where is the danger? Why did you call for me?"

"My Lord…my mother…my father sent me to find a healer…and when I…saw you…I knew you could help her!" the young man panted, looking hopefully into the King's eyes.

"If I can help your mother, I will. Where is she, lad?" he asked, his mind now completely focused on the boy and his troubles.

"She is…at my house…down around the corner there and then—"

"If she is in need of care now, you must lead me!" The boy nodded, turned, and ran off down the alley. Aragorn followed close on his heels, prepared for whatever the task might be, and hoping he could do something to help. Dinner was no longer a thought in his mind.

* * *

The stars were out in full force tonight and the light of the moon shone down around the snow where Legolas sat. The beauty of Minas Tirith lay in the areas where prying eyes did not see and no one journeyed or climbed up into the mountains. Here…here was where Legolas, son of Thranduil, had made his hiding place. Normally, he was not an elf of mountains and stone, but spending time with the dwarf in numerous places had drawn him to the natural beauty and wonder of them. Sometimes, he needed time to sit and to think of nothing in particular or to speak with Ilúvatar or to think of the days and times that had passed, just to be alone for a little while. That was his purpose here tonight.

He thought of the time he had spent today with Enguina, she had asked him to use her first name, and what a blessing that time had been. She was a treasure; dinner tonight had been delightful as they celebrated Annî's birthday. He had sat close to her throughout the evening, talking about trivial things and simply enjoying her company. He thought about their walking about the church and the Tombs of the Kings today with Éowyn as their guide. She had been moved by the church; had told him she was seeking peace and that her soul was weary, had been in tears, had been moved by his song. He could only hope that she would find her peace; perhaps, if he could lead her to it…

But he had felt from her today, as she had reached out and touched his face outside of the church, that same attraction that he felt for her. He could even see it in her eyes! Yes, she could deny it; she was full of unease and even fear about so many things, but they had plans to ride tomorrow near the Anduin, and he was delighted to share with her some of the natural beauty in Gondor that he found so appealing. He was going to share with her every single thing that might entice her to stay. He…he _needed_ her to stay. His heart was completely taken by her, had been since that moment on the wall. It _had_ originally been her beauty that had drawn him to her, but getting to know her the past few days had been the sole object of his existence. The more time he spent with her, the more time he could not be without her. His thoughts were drawn to her throughout the day so frequently that he would find himself staring off at nothing for long minutes before he might snap back to reality. His heart was taken by her.

He smiled ruefully. _How he had changed!_ Not four days ago he had been content with his life and now he could not bear the thought of being without this woman who had stolen his heart! Was that what love was? Was love to be near pain when away from the beloved? Oh, bring the agony to him, then! He was in love…in _love_! Smitten by her, his heart stolen away from him…so suddenly!

He looked into the night. He often thought of Aragorn's words and how he used to sing to Arwen every night before he fell asleep in the time of their long separation. Here, he had a song in his heart to sing to Enguina. He might never speak the words to her face…but he could sing them here for her. His heart was so… _light_ …so full of _light_ , the light of a thousand suns.

 _Suddenly you are here; suddenly it starts_

 _Can two anxious hearts beat as one?_

 _Yesterday I was alone…now you are beside me_

 _Something still unclear, something not yet here has begun_

 _Suddenly the world seems a different place_

 _Suddenly full of grace, full of light!_

 _How was I to know that there was so much love inside me?_

 _What is past has gone; in time we will be one in His sight_

 _Never more alone; never more apart_

 _You have warmed my heart like the sun!_

 _You have brought the gift of love in her, so long denied me_

 _Suddenly I see, what I could never see_

 _Something, suddenly, has begun!_

* * *

Arwen sat in a chair near the window, repairing a small hole in one of Aragorn's tunics. It was deep green and handsome, the same he had worn in Rivendell before the Fellowship had set out. It brought back many memories, some fond and some otherwise. Enguina sat in another chair near her, and though they had been having a conversation with laughter, silence had now taken over. Enguina tried to keep Arwen preoccupied, but every time the conversation would slip, her friend would take to looking out the window. She knew well that Arwen was looking for the King.

Dinner and the celebration itself had been a wonderful affair, one that had brought Enguina more delight than she had felt in some time. The day had been absolutely wonderful, and could never have exceeded her expectations more than it already had. Andúnêiel was the perfect angel during the party, and after when all sat and spoke with laughter, she was the perfect demon. Faramir had said that she took after him and Éowyn had clapped her hand over Faramir's open, laughing mouth. It had been positively _priceless_ , and ending on that most amusing note, they had all parted for the evening. Enguina had once again seen the dwarf, but they had not spoken more than a nod, and she had watched Legolas closely throughout the evening. He had been kind…and his sparkling eyes told her more than she was sure she had wanted to know. She found herself, as was common lately, wondering what in the _world_ she would do when she saw him tomorrow. All except Arwen and Enguina went to their respective homes.

As long as she had been in Gondor, however, _still_ she had not seen this mysterious King! She was seriously beginning to wonder if he really _did_ exist, or if all of them had a collective scheme to pretend he was actually a living person. But of course he was real; Arwen would not play such a game with her, and truly she was the Queen of this City; she had known so since the first day she had been there. But here was her best friend, staring out the window as a lovesick pup who…who _deserved better_! It made her so angry to think that this man, who had so much as written her friend a letter this morning, had not the decency to present himself, or at the very least _tell_ someone that he would not be able to attend. Even then, she found his boldness and boorishness rude and insulting. Her dearest and oldest friend should _not_ be treated that way!

And here her friend was, worried…so worried that something had happened to her most trusted husband when he could be… _anywhere_ doing _anything_! And why should Arwen not be worried? The man should have enough sense to appear after being gone all day; after all, he was the King, and he certainly could not just disappear; things such as that did not happen that way. Even if he _had_ disappeared, _someone_ must know where he was. If anyone had the right to know where the King was at any given time, it would be the Queen.

"Where is he…" Arwen whispered to herself as she rested her chin in her hand, looking out the window. She was worried, but not extremely. Something _must_ be keeping him. Aragorn would never have missed the party for Annî, and it was getting so late in the evening that all was dark and only the pinpoints of light of stars could be seen. She sighed; not only all of these things attributed to her worry…he had _said_ he would be there. Something _must_ have happened; she could only hope that it had not been serious. She prayed; rain was coming down in great sheets now. When he arrived, he would be soaked to the bone…and probably freezing.

"Arwen…" Enguina said softly, "I am sure he will come." She spoke only to encourage her, though _she_ was becoming more annoyed than ever at this King. How could he be so inconsiderate and leave them all waiting for his arrival? Arwen smiled at her, but it did naught to soothe her burst of temper.

"I know. He probably has already told a guard where he has been and the news is slow in coming. News does travel rather slowly in Gondor in the evening. You are right, of course…he will be here soon, Enguina," she replied softly, reaching out to pat her hand, but in her eyes, Enguina could see the worry of a wife for her only love, and it infuriated her. As Arwen turned back to her sewing, Enguina's eyes flashed.

"Arwen," she said, her voice so annoyed and different that Arwen's head rose almost immediately, "how do you know what he is doing out there?"

Arwen's head tilted and she set down her sewing needle, her eyes sweeping to the pouring rain once more. "He is getting wetter and wetter by the moment; I can tell you that." She met Enguina's eyes, a smirk upon her face, but she would have none of that.

"You _know_ what I mean; do not play naïve with me."

Arwen shrugged slightly. "Nay, Enguina, I am unsure of what you are hinting at. Speak plain to me for I might misunderstand you."

"There is nothing to be misunderstood," she replied, and then she sighed. "Oh, Arwen. What I mean to say is…how…how do you know he is not being unfaithful?" The question came out from her lips before she even realized that she truly was going to finally voice her concern.

" _Unfaithful—_?"

"Yes, unfaithful! How do you know he is not out there at this very moment, or for these past days when he has not returned home, with another…another woman? How do you know where he is? You said that he does this often—"

"Enguina!" she gasped, her eyes wide and shocked.

"How do you know he is not out and about the streets at night?"

"Stop! Please, Enguina; you do not _know_ him!" Arwen cried, standing up and meeting her eyes. Enguina knew that she had upset her friend, but her own concerns for her outweighed it. "Aragorn…he has done _everything_ for me; gave up everything for me—"

"It seems that it is _you_ who have given up everything for _him_." Before Arwen could even open her mouth to respond, Enguina continued, "I worry for you, Arwen." Enguina spoke softly, and Arwen sighed and shook her head.

"Yes, I understand that…but placing doubts in my head of my devoted husband is _not_ the way to handle your concern, dear friend." She moved forward and crouched down in front of her, giving her a smile. "You do not know this man, Enguina. Do you think that all men are only filled with a relentless desire for passionate love? No, I tell you that Aragorn does not come near to this pit for men that you have created out of your own terrible experience."

Enguina frowned at her. "Not _all_ men; simply those I have not met. Faramir and Legolas do not fall into such a category."

"Ah…it is good to hear that you have become as fond of Legolas as you have Faramir."

"We are speaking of _you_ , Arwen, not me. And we have already spoken of my day, though not in any great detail, and when I work out my feelings I will surely tell you of them, but not now. _Now_ we are speaking of the great and hidden King of Gondor, who does not seem to desire to be anywhere but out in the rain at this moment!"

Arwen snorted softly, rolling her eyes. "I assure you that he desires to be here…and nowhere else." She rose and returned to her chair, lifting the tunic once again to begin sewing.

"You have such confidence in him…why? After all, he is only a mortal."

" _And_ a human, and my husband, and the only person in the whole world I have given my whole being to in honest pledge under the belief that he had become my life." She set the tunic down again to meet Enguina's eyes. "You speak of him out of ignorance, Enguina, yet you have known me longer than almost anyone. Would I give myself away to just any man?"

"No! Of course not!" Enguina stated, exasperated, horrified that Arwen would even bring such a thing up. "You were always firm about such things! I speak naught of _you_ , but of—"

"But you do speak of me, dear friend, for Aragorn and I are one in everything but body. I trust his word as I trust my own…we were joined by Ilúvatar alone, and shall never be separated. I tell you, Enguina, that Aragorn and I meant the vows we spoke to one another. We will hold true to them no matter what; we have been down _that_ path before."

Enguina sighed, and she was just about to ask what she meant by 'before,' when she noticed the sound of the front door opening and shutting. They both heard footsteps in the kitchen. Arwen looked up, praying that it truly would be Aragorn. As they drew closer, she thought that it could not have been, for they seemed slower than his normal pace, nearly stumbling with exhaustion. She focused her eyes on the doorway to the sitting room, and was more than surprised when he entered.

Only one other time in her life had she been more shocked at the sight of him. The first thing she noticed about him forced her eyes wider in surprise and horror: his tunic was slick with blood, whether it was his she did not know. His arms were also covered with it, and he was soaked from the rain from top to bottom. Beyond the blood, what bothered her most was the haunted look in his eyes. His shoulders were slumped forward, and he did not look at her immediately. His grimy hand caught the doorframe, and at first his eyes seemed unfocused. They roamed the room and found Enguina, who sat gaping at him. Her eyes were wide, and she found herself unable to form any words into a complete sentence.

"Aragorn…!" cried Arwen as she rose from her seat. His tunic fell from her lap, now forgotten. Her face was filled with concern and his features fell into a disappointed frown that was familiar to her. "What happened to you? Is everything all right?" She reached a hand to him, and he moved to take it. He pulled his hand back at the last moment, remembering that it was covered with blood.

"Arwen…" he said softly, and then he sighed. "Forgive me for not returning for dinner."

She found the same self-loathing in his eyes that he had held at times when he spoke of things he had done wrong. He was upset with himself for letting them down… _again_. It caught her off guard. She was surprised that he would mention dinner when she had been so afraid that something terrible had happened to him. However, the intensity in his gaze also told her that the comment about dinner was to prevent her from asking where he had been. It was obviously a conversation for later, and not with Enguina present. Her eyes spoke volumes of understanding to him. Even though she was still worried and a little confused, she would obey his wishes and not speak of it.

Her hand touched his cheek and gently ran through the edges of his wet hair. He closed his eyes at her touch, but then opened them and smiled slightly. As she looked into those eyes, intensity aside, she could not read them. It was the first time that his eyes were not an open window to his soul…and it bothered her more then she cared to admit.

"Ú-moe edhored, melda nîn. Bado a deto lauca, [There is nothing to forgive, my beloved. Go and get warm,]" she said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder to apply pressure to urge him to go into the bed room to change. He bowed his head to her, water dripping onto the floor.

"Hannon le, [Thank you,]" he whispered even more quietly than she had. "Be iest lîn, vanimelda. [As you wish, fair-love.]" His fingers came free from the frame with some difficulty, and he slowly went into the opposite room. Arwen watched him go. Her mind whispered a soft prayer of thanks to Ilúvatar that he was all right, and then she turned back to her chair by the window.

 _Dear, sweet, Heavenly Father…_ please _tell me that was not him. That was not…the_ King! Enguina stared at the door where Aragorn had exited the room. She was surprised for many reasons, but more so embarrassed beyond anything she had ever known. She wondered if Arwen had known at the dinner table the evening she had arrived that Aragorn had been the one she had run into that first morning. She hoped…and prayed not! Her face grew very hot, and she wanted to bury her face into her hands. She had hoped instantly that Aragorn would not remember her, but that hope was already dashed, for the look of recognition he gave her did naught to help her situation. Perhaps she could still get out of speaking to him. Maybe she could prolong the torture until tomorrow morning if she just excused herself…

"Arwen…perhaps I should go. I would not wish to intrude—"

"Oh, no, please…stay, Enguina," said Arwen, looking up. "I wanted you and Aragorn to meet and now is as good a time as any. Everything is all right…though I know it is also late, and if you are tired I will understand."

"Nay…I am not tired. I only thought that you might wish to be alone. But if not, then I will stay for I, of course, wish to meet the King myself." Arwen gave her a smile, and Enguina had to restrain herself from physically kicking herself for being so dense. Instead, she did it several times in her head.

In moments, Aragorn appeared in the doorway, looking none the worse for wear. He wore a grey tunic that nearly matched his eyes, and though his hair was wet, it seemed to be drying. Still, to Enguina, even though she was still mortified, he did not sincerely look the part of a King. Arwen smiled towards him as he entered. Looking at him in the tunic she had made him, she thought he was beyond handsome, but she tore her eyes away to introduce him to Enguina.

"Aragorn, this is my dearest friend, Enguina. I have known her for a very long time; we grew up together in Lothlórien, and she has come for a visit," said Arwen, hoping that they would like each other as well. Everyone else had enjoyed Enguina's company. She knew that Aragorn would be the perfect gentleman, even if he had a very bad day.

Enguina watched him, and before he turned to her, he placed a sheathed sword against the chair that he would be sitting in. Andúril was never far from his side…or his hand. He walked as an elf, for he had been raised with them, and his height shocked her. He did not appear old, though he was not young either, and his eyes shown with something that immediately made her more at ease. He moved over to where she sat and extended his hand.

It was obvious to him that she was embarrassed; he could read it in her eyes. He had thought about their meeting as he changed in the opposite room, and had decided that it would remain a secret that they had met before. He would refrain from making any comment that would further embarrass her, even though he was very interested in finding out how the horse was doing. Her pale face and look of embarrassment would have been enough to make him laugh if he had been in a fairer mood, but instead he only smiled at her gently. It did not quite reach his eyes.

"Welcome to Minas Tirith, Lady Enguina," he said, taking her hand and bowing low over it. "I hope you enjoyed your first few days in the White City, and I pray that you will have many more here. Please forgive my _appalling_ tardiness; I shall not make excuses for it," he said, his voice softer when she had thought it would sound gruff. He released her hand and returned to his chair. Enguina noticed a smile on Arwen's face.

"Please," Enguina replied with an equally soft tone, "no…apology is necessary. I assure you that I have had a wonderful few days, my Lord, and I thank you and your people for your warm welcome." _And I thank you for your lack of acknowledgement of my stupidity on the Pelennor several mornings ago._

"Please, call me Aragorn…those I know well do. If you are a friend of Arwen's I expect you shall be staying with us for some time and we will become friends if your time permits." He gave her a smile, one that reached his eyes, this time completely. He glanced out the window and watched the guards light the torches on the wall for the night shift. He turned back to Enguina.

"Did Arwen show you around the City today? She told me of your first day, but…well," he looked a bit sheepish, "the others I know little of."

"No, Arwen has been very busy herself, but the Lady Éowyn and the Prince were kind enough to take me about. We did walk through the streets and attend the market, and I have seen the gardens. They are very beautiful. I must say that this is a very fair city, and I am surprisingly finding myself more comfortable in it." Aragorn smiled slightly.

"It was not once so, nor are all mortal cities so fair. However, it is nearly rebuilt. Thanks to the work of many kinsmen and of brothers in other races it is beginning to look as it once did in the days of old when it was high and fair."

"I do not believe I have seen so many friendly men in one place before," she laughed softly, beginning to feel strangely comfortable in his presence. "When they took me to the market, there were people selling things and calling out to one another all around me. There were so many _people_ , though…most of them were kind."

Aragorn shook his head. "I had cautioned Arwen that I did not believe that the market would have been the most appropriate place to be worthy of a first week trip in Minas Tirith, though it certainly is an experience."

Enguina's smile faded slightly as she remembered the man. "You do not know how correct you are; though there were some very good times that day." She brightened slightly. "I saw the Silent Street today, and also your fair church. It was truly amazing; I could nearly feel Ilúvatar's presence within it."

Aragorn's smile widened. "Perhaps you will join us on Sunday. When you sing there, your heart is filled."

"Legolas sang a bit of something…" she began, and Arwen's head raised and Aragorn's smile grew, if that was possible, "and it was quite beautiful." Enguina blushed slightly, wondering if she really meant that the song sounded beautiful in the sanctuary or if she thought Legolas' voice was beautiful.

"What else did you see?" he asked softly.

"She met our friends," said Arwen, glancing back down at the tunic she was fixing. A smile lit her features.

"Yes," smiled Enguina, "and they are good people. Faramir and Éowyn's babe is the most beautiful child I have ever seen, and they make a handsome couple. Dinner was an amusing affair, all four evenings of it."

Aragorn sighed softly, and rubbed his forehead. "I assume they told their stories as usual. I sorely regret to have missed them."

"Mmm," agreed Arwen. "They told stories well past dinner, and many were very amusing. But of course, such is guaranteed when you place Legolas, Faramir, and Gimli together in the same room. Perhaps Enguina shall see more of Gondor tomorrow on her own."

"To tell the truth…Legolas asked if I would accompany him on a short ride outside the City to see the outer wall. I agreed that I would go." Arwen stared at her, shocked to hear Enguina say that she had agreed to go with Legolas… _alone!_

"I am glad to hear it," Aragorn replied, for he was pleased that Legolas was interested in the Elvish woman. He had hoped for it since that morning ride days ago. He looked at Enguina. "I trust that you will be well taken care of tomorrow, Lady; fear not for your safety," he said, and Enguina wondered if he was a mind reader. She hoped that Arwen had not said anything to him about her situation; she would have been even more mortified.

Enguina bowed her head in acknowledgement, and smiled. "Do you fear for his?" she said with a soft laugh. "Rest assured, my Lord. I intend to take good care of him."

It was not much later into the night after they had finished talking about what Enguina had done, when Arwen noticed that Aragorn's eyes were practically closing. It seemed to her that his posture indicated his exhaustion even more so, and that worried her more. It was only a moment after that when she finished the sewing of his tunic, and so she came to the idea that it was time for the evening to draw to a close.

"I believe, friend, that it is long past my time for sleep," said Arwen, rising to her feet. She folded the tunic and placed it on the chair. Enguina nodded and yawned with her.

She smiled. "Forgive me, but I believe it is past mine as well." She rose.

"The day has been long," stated Aragorn, standing as she did. "May I escort you—"

"May _we_ escort you home?" Arwen said gently, looping her arm through his as Enguina smiled at her.

"I would be very grateful for that kindness," she replied. "Thank you."

Thankfully, the rain had stopped, and so they would be able to walk Enguina home without growing soaked from the downpour. As they walked, she had a small smile on her face as she held out a hand to feel the rain that did not come.

"Is it not certain that when you are having a long evening and must go somewhere that the rain comes, but when all is over it is done as well?"

Aragorn nodded. "Ilúvatar answered my prayer for rain, and so it came. I have always found it very soothing…and He knew that I needed it tonight, Lady." Arwen's hand tightened on his arm, but Enguina caught sight of it.

Enguina looked at him gently, as if trying to read in his eyes what he would need comfort from. "I have never looked at the rain that way," she said softly, thinking of his words. He smiled at her then.

"I often find that when we least expect it, Ilúvatar finds a way to communicate with us."

"Enguina," Arwen said softly, "where exactly will you be riding tomorrow?"

Enguina gave a soft laugh and shrugged. "I do not honestly know, Arwen. The Prince had mentioned something about riding near the Anduin and showing me more of the 'scenery' of Minas Tirith." She smiled to herself.

"That sounds nice," Aragorn said. "I am sure you will enjoy the ride."

"The Anduin is a lovely place," Arwen said thoughtfully. "It has been…a little while since I have been there." Enguina watched a bit of heat rise in Arwen's face as she spoke, and though she raised her eyebrows, she did not ask about it.

"You do not ride often now that you are with child," Enguina pointed out. "Perhaps you and I could do that at some point while I am here. It has been many years since we have ridden together."

Arwen smiled at her. "I _would_ like that. Hopefully, your horse will be kind to you tomorrow."

It was Enguina's turn to blush crimson at the mention of her horse, but thankfully, they had just arrived back to her home. "I wish that we had been able to talk more," she said softly, and she glanced at Aragorn, "but it is late."

"There will be other nights. I hope you will not be leaving too quickly," Aragorn replied.

"No," Enguina said with a smile, "I will be here for a little while longer."

"Good, and good evening, Lady. It was a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Rest well, Enguina," Arwen said softly.

"I thank you both so for your kindness," Enguina added, opening the door and stepping inside. They smiled at her. As she closed the door, she moved to the window to watch as they turned together and walked away. She kept her eyes on them, even as Arwen's hand slipped down into Aragorn's, her fingers wrapping through his and holding his hand tight.

* * *

Aragorn held the door for her and Arwen went into their home. Enguina had been right, it _was_ late, but she would not be sleeping yet. She waited until the door closed and then turned into him, finding him leaning his back against the front door. Reaching out to him, she pulled herself into his arms, wrapping hers about him. They stayed that way for a moment or two, Aragorn resting his cheek upon the top of her head. She moved her hands to his shoulders, feeling the tightness there. Slipping from his arms, she took his hand again, leading him slowly into their sitting room and over towards the chair he had been sitting in.

"Háro, [Sit,]" she said compassionately. Whatever it was that was torturing him would not be solved in a few moments, and his muscles were extremely tight. He lowered himself back into his chair, closed his eyes, and dropped his head forward, allowing her better access to his neck. She stood behind the chair and gently massaged his back, neck, and shoulders.

Her fingers were as magic against his skin. It was as if she had simply told his muscles to loosen and they obeyed without question. With how exhausted his body was, it utterly gave on him, and he had fallen asleep in a few moments.

Minutes passed, and it was only when she let go for a moment and he began to fall forward that she realized he was completely out. She caught his shoulders and rested him against the back of the chair, feeling sorry for him. Wondering what it was that had made him so tired, she was even more worried about what could have bothered him so much to give him those haunted eyes. She ran her fingers through his hair, again and again, just letting him rest for a few moments before she would have to wake him to move him to the bed.

Taking Andúril from the floor, she moved into the other room. She placed the sword near their bed, and changed her clothes, slipping on the nightgown that he had the tailor make for her especially on their anniversary this year. It was made from the most comfortable fabric, and she simply loved it. Every time she wore it, she thought of how much he loved her. She let her hair out of its pins and shook it free. After pulling down the bed covers, she moved back into the other room to wake her husband. She crouched in front of him and laid her cheek against his leg. Gently, she took his hands in her own and kissed them, keeping them against her lips.

"Deto am, meleth, [Get up, love,]" she said gently. He opened his eyes, and turned his head to look down to the pressure on his thigh. He met her love-filled eyes. "Tolo go nin, melda. [Come together with me, beloved.]" He ran his fingers through her hair, and then a finger down her cheek, coming to rest on her lips. She smiled, and held his gaze. Slowly he nodded, letting his finger drop. She stood, and pulled him gently to his feet. Slipping an arm through his, she walked with him into the other room.

Aragorn changed into his evening attire, but it took him longer than usual. It seemed to Arwen that he was either deliberately taking his time or he was truly exhausted. She curled up under the covers, and she saw the light in the other room go out as Aragorn blew out the few candles that had been lit. She saw his shadow cast on the wall and watched as it vanished when he blew out the candle in their bedroom. Gently, he lifted the sheets and climbed in. He sighed when his head hit the pillow, but he said nothing at first.

She assumed it was up to her to find out what it was that was troubling him, but it normally was. He was not the type that spoke his mind on matters that bothered him; he preferred to keep some things to himself, even when she wished to share in the things that troubled him. She slipped an arm around his waist, and curled her body around his back. There was silence in the room again, and then Aragorn's strong hand covered her own.

"What is it, beloved? There was something in your eyes tonight that shook me. What is hurting you so?" His hand tightened on hers, and she heard him let out the breath he had so obviously been holding.

"I was returning to our home this evening when I was stopped by a young man, who told me he was sent by his father to find help for his mother," Aragorn began softly, though his voice still carried in the room. "I told him that I would do what I could, and he led me to his home. When I entered, many young children, all under the age of ten years, and all very frightened suddenly surrounded me. They were crying, believing they were going to lose their mother. The father was crying as well, and that was what frightened his children I believe. He believed there was no hope for his wife." He closed his eyes, and she felt his muscles tighten. He went on even more softly. "I went into the other room to find his wife in labor before she was ready.

"She had been kicked by their small pony when she was giving him his feed, and the contractions had started. They had done what they could, but there was nothing they could do to stop them. She was in a great deal of pain and her husband, even though he had seven, knew nothing about birthing children. The child was backwards; it was a breech birth, and they knew nothing of that." He paused again, and she ran her fingers through his hair, getting a premonition of where this story was headed.

"I helped her as best I could, and she was fine. It was…" his voice cut off for a moment, and he swallowed. "It was…the child did not survive. The cord wrapped around her tiny neck and cut off her air. She had died before she even saw the light of the evening. I could not…save her; I could not… _do_ anything. I tried all that I knew, but it was already too late. I was too late."

Arwen shook her head, her face full of concern for him. She ran her fingers gently across his cheek, feeling the wetness that remained there, and it grieved her even more deeply. She wrapped her arms even more tightly around him, pressing his back against her chest and belly.

"No…no, Aragorn, you were not too late. You did what you could, what you knew in your heart to be the right thing. You are a healer—"

"I could not heal her."

"You did all that you knew you could," she whispered, "and you saved her mother's life…and you were there to comfort her family in their grief. That is no small task when you are grieving as well. Do not let your heart be troubled, Aragorn, for it was not of your making that such a thing occurred. Perhaps they were only meant to have seven children, so many already to raise and love…"

She stopped when Aragorn turned in her arms to face her. At first, she thought he was angry, but instead she discovered that his face was full of fear and worry.

"Arwen…" he whispered, and she rested her fingers on his lips.

"Do not speak of it, Aragorn." He closed his eyes, and she gently wiped them.

"I have to…" he continued, his heart so weighted down with his grief. "Arwen…I could not bear to lose you…or the child. As I sat there tonight, I thought of you, and I do not think I could do it. I could not live without you." She gently pulled him to her, and rested her cheek on his, holding him close.

"Aragorn, I feared for your safety tonight, and I prayed you would be safe…and Ilúvatar answered my prayer. There is the will of good and the will of evil in this world, Aragorn. The will of Ilúvatar brought us together, and He will keep us together until our time in this world is over. You have too much good to do yet in Middle-Earth for Eru to take you from me and send you to Dor Firn-i-Guinar," she finished softly. He sighed with his whole being, but he moved his head to look into her eyes.

"Not yet," he whispered, "but I mean what I said, meleth. I cannot live without you."

"Please," she replied, seriously, "I do not want to think about a life without you either."

"And what of the child?" he asked gently, and he lowered the hands that had been wrapped around her to stroke the five month bulge of her womb. "After tonight, I am even more worried than I—"

She laughed softly. "You were worried? I would never have known it. Trust your faith in Ilúvatar, Aragorn. He has never failed us. All this time we waited for a babe…"

"But labor is hard, Arwen," he said softly, "and so many things can go wrong."

"And just a week ago you were telling me that everything was going to be fine. Now, here we are, and our roles are reversed." He sighed and she smiled. "Maybe you should speak to the babe…you have not had the opportunity recently."

He nearly leapt at the chance, applying pressure to her hip to roll her onto her back. He scooted down her body and cupped his hands around her belly, pressing his lips to her gown. She could not help but smile at the beautiful picture of him in the moonlight.

"Hello little one," he whispered, "Daddy is here. I know, it has been a little while and I have not sung in a while. If it was not so late, I would give you a melody, but tonight you shall have to settle for words." He felt a light kick beneath his fingers and he grinned. "You will have to forgive your daddy to be so without music tonight. I was worried for you and your mother, and I did not have time to write a new song. Perhaps tomorrow?" He pressed his lips to Arwen's belly again, and she lay her hands upon his, touching his fingers with hers. "Baby, Daddy loves you, and Mommy loves you…and we cannot wait until we hold you in our arms. I will sing to you then, as well…and rock you. You are so loved."

He laid his head on her stomach and looked up into her eyes as she reached down to stroke his hair. "Do you feel better now?" she whispered gently, and he nodded. Lifting his head again, he slowly, lovingly kissed an invisible line from the baby all the way up between her breasts before he gently captured her lips with his.

"I love you," he whispered into them, and she sighed kissing him again.

"And I love you, Aragorn." He rolled her gently back onto her side and slipped his arms around her, bringing her close to him. She snuggled into his chest. Both of them tightened their arms around the other, drawing their beloved as close as possible to themselves.

But even though they both felt better, the thought of the still-born child troubled both of them so much that it was a little while before sleep found either of them.


	9. Chapter 9

The wind was cold coming off the Pelennor that December morning, but neither rider actually felt it. The sun was nowhere to be seen as Legolas and Enguina rode along the Great River and snow was beginning to fall. She could not help but continue to steal glances at him as he sat, looking tall and incredibly handsome in the saddle; he was an excellent rider. Legolas turned a moment and caught her looking at him, giving her a smile. She smiled back even though she had been meaning to quickly look away.

"You seem to be having no trouble with your horse today, my Lady," Legolas said softly, and Enguina laughed.

"I thought I asked you yesterday to call me Enguina," she chided him.

He held up a hand and laughed with her. "You will have to forgive me! I have been calling you 'my Lady' for so long that I forget your name."

She gave him a sarcastic look. "I thought you were going to use it with reverence," she teased, and he gave her a grin.

"Of course…when I actually _remember_ it."

She shook her head. "I also thought that if I agreed for you to accompany me that you were going to be nice."

He looked hurt for a moment. "Teasing is not nice? What am I allowed then?"

She laughed. "Stop toying with me, and let me answer your question! The answer is no, I have had no trouble with my horse today. Clearly," she replied and she blushed a bit, "the man's talk with him helped." She stroked the black's neck. "Right, Lómë?" The black tossed his head and snorted.

"Does that embarrass you?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Oh no, I am not talking about it," she said firmly, embarrassed enough that she had not known who Aragorn was. She caught him eyeing her slyly and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Do not even bother goading me, and if you bring it up again, I shall say no more than two words to you for the rest of the ride."

Legolas laughed, holding up his hands. "Very well! I will not ask if you wish! I was only going to say that you are a very good rider."

Enguina shook her head. "You are a better one, and your horse is gorgeous."

"Glosbrethil has been my companion for many years," Legolas admitted. "He and I have known each other since he was a foal." He reached down and stroked the grey's neck.

"What a beautiful name," she said and Legolas dropped back a bit from her side so she could reach over and stroke the grey's neck. "You are so handsome, Glosbrethil." The grey snorted and Lómë reached around to nudge his shoulder. Enguina laughed. "Do not be jealous, Lómë! You are handsome as well!"

"Brethil has not seen much battle," Legolas continued, "but he was always brave in the darkness surrounding Mirkwood. Perhaps he will never have reason to see battle."

"One can always hope," Enguina agreed. Legolas drew up beside her again and she sighed. "You were right about the Anduin. It is very beautiful here; the sycamores, even in winter, have a special look about them. And see these snowflakes!" She held out a hand as some large ones began to accumulate on her arm. "I have never ridden in the snow before."

"Never?" Legolas asked, thinking that he had never seen anything as beautiful as Enguina with snowflakes in her hair. "Did it never snow in Lórien?"

"No," Enguina replied, laughing as she tilted her head back, "and the mallorns never lost their leaves in fall. They only—"

"Turned gold," Legolas said with her, and he laughed. "Yes, I saw them when we were in Lórien for a short time during the War."

"You were in Lórien?" she asked, incredulous. "I knew there were travelers there, but I had not known an elf was one of the party. Arwen had mentioned you were part of the nine-walkers, but I never made the connection."

Legolas nodded with a smile. "Lothlórien was very beautiful; we stayed as the Lady's guests. I am sure I would have remembered you had I seen you there; you must have been well-hidden."

She could not help the blush that covered her cheeks. "I am not that memorable," she laughed. "But I am glad that you enjoyed being there; it is different now that the Lord and Lady have departed over the Sea. There is so little song and joy there."

"That is a pity, indeed," he replied softly. "There was much music and poetry in your people. Arwen was always singing when she returned from there and I would see her in Imladris. Do you sing, Enguina?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Why do you ask?"

"I was only thinking that you probably have a lovely voice," he stated, speaking his mind. "Your speaking voice is very melodic, rhythmic…so I was thinking that your voice would be lovely to hear in song."

She blushed. "Do you always speak your mind?"

"Mother believed it was my curse," he said with a soft laugh. "I will not say that I _always_ speak my mind, but I often do not stop myself from saying what I mean, good or ill. Honest to a fault, I suppose you would call it."

" _That_ is a fault indeed!" she said with mock horror. "What other faults have you? I suppose it would be good to get them all out into the open now." She was teasing him, but he decided to relent and tell her of himself.

"Oh, are we speaking of faults now? Well perhaps we should take turns. I can often say things I do not mean when I am in a temper." He gave her a grin. "Now, it is your turn."

"I never agreed to that!" Enguina laughed. "I have no intention of telling you _any_ of my faults!"

"I shall guess then!"

"No, please!" Enguina said, still laughing. "I will never admit them!"

"You can be…obstinate."

Her eyes widened, but he could see the light of laughter within them. "How dare you!"

"My temper is short…when lit, I will often immediately come to the defense of others. I tend to use words as my weapons." He looked thoughtful a moment. " _You_ can be defensive. You take things too personally."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "You really _are_ trying to dig a hole for yourself."

"I am overprotective," he continued and then grinned. "You are judgmental." She stared at him, scoffing at his words. "You make a decision about a person or a group very decidedly and you have difficulty changing it."

"And now you are _burying_ yourself in it."

He laughed. "Perhaps one more. When someone I love is in danger, I can sometimes make completely irrational decisions in order to protect them. This often impairs my judgment…" he tilted his head, "from time to time. And _you…_ you are afraid to step out on faith. You must be _certain_ about everything before you move forward." He bowed his head to her.

"You know…there is no one out here but the two of us," Enguina said softly. "If I were to take your life, no one would _ever_ find your body after I hid it out here."

 _Two death threats in one week!_ "I suppose I should be more careful then, hmm?" he replied, but his eyes were a bit more serious than before. "You will not confirm any of my suppositions?"

She looked at him; she had been hoping to tease him, but how could she when everything he had said was right on about her? She was all of those things, and he had only known her five days. She decided she would neither confirm nor deny his assessments. Instead, she chose to comment on his statements of his own faults. "I find it hard to imagine that you can be irrational," she said, raising her eyebrows, "when you seem so reasonable."

He gave her a smile. "You have seen my temper already," he admitted, "and I demonstrated my overprotective nature as well."

She turned slightly in the saddle to look at him seriously. "I was very grateful for that nature yesterday," she said softly, and then, after hesitating continued, "I was very grateful for _you_."

He drew Brethil closer to her and reached out, laying a hand on her arm. "I was very glad that I was there, and I am sorry that I did not hear your first cry." He frowned. "I am sorry that I was not there from the beginning. For someone to…treat you that way…" He shook his head. "I lost my head a bit; if I frightened you, I am sorry."

"Do not be sorry," she said, looking at him but suddenly shy, "I was very glad for your defense. I was…frozen."

He met her eyes. "That man should never have touched you the way he did," he said softly.

" _Would_ you have struck him?" she asked, tilting her head. He released her arm and looked down at Brethil's mane, sighing, and then he looked back at her.

"I would have…I will not deny it." He gave her a little smile. "Again, my temper can get the better of me and I often make irrational decisions when defending someone." He sighed. "It would probably be a good idea if you were to heed my words."

She sighed. "I do not have any desire at all to admit it but…you were so right about all of my faults," she confessed, shaking her head. "They are part of me…and some are worse than others. Perhaps it was not the greatest idea to discuss our faults."

"Since we have, and not one of them is so terrible that we will never speak to each other again," he teased, "perhaps we should tell all of the good things that make up our character." She winced at his words and shook her head, full of embarrassed laughter.

"Ugh…I am not sure that is a good idea."

"It is perfect," he said. "Perhaps I shall start with you this time, as you seem disinclined to speak of yourself again. I would say that you have great love for your friends; you care for them in a way that keeps them close to your heart. I see the way you are around Arwen, and how attentive you are to her; how you love her. Now, for _me_ —"

"Allow me, please, if we are going to play this game," she said with a laugh. "You are strong and decisive. Once you decide something is the right course, you stay it to the end."

He laughed. "What a fault that can also be! You have a peaceful heart, Enguina, and you enjoy bringing that peace to others and sharing it with them. You can be just as content to sit as to speak."

"You genuinely care for others, and it shows in the way you treat them, the way you speak to them. You seek out ways to make others feel comfortable in a situation where they feel awkward." She gave him a little, shy smile. "I speak from experience."

He smiled back, and it grew to a teasing grin. "There is a hidden joy in you that enjoys being teased though you would not be likely to admit it." She laughed at him, shaking her head. "See? You deny, but secretly, you wish someone was around you to tease you more."

"That is not true," she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Is it not?" he asked, raising his back. "And I thought I was reading you fairly well…"

"I think you cannot get everything right about me," she stated. "What would that say about me?"

"That no matter how you try to conceal yourself, someone who cares would find you a very interesting discovery, indeed." He smiled as she blushed, and then continued softly. "I…could be persuaded to be a caring, interested person."

"Persuaded, hmm?" she said softly, before the words were filtered through her brain. "And how might one be persuaded?"

He grinned at her. "Continue to hide, and I shall continue to seek."

"You make me sound as though I am playing a game with you, Legolas," she said, her voice turning serious. "I…am not playing any game with you."

"Nor am I," he said, his tone suddenly as serious as hers, "only the intent and purpose at the end will matter. My intent…my purpose…is no game."

She stared into those blue eyes, uncertainty flooding her. Was it possible that she could have misunderstood what he meant? Probable, but this man before her was good with words, and he would have said something else had he _meant_ something else. No, he had said, fairly clearly, that he was not toying with her in the least way. He was serious; he wanted to know her; he accepted her faults, rejoiced in her character. Could she act on that? Could she see herself at Legolas's side?

Looking at him, she _could_ and perhaps that was what frightened her the most. She had full intentions of coming to Gondor, seeing her friend, and journeying to the Havens…if she were to stay, what would that look like? What in the world would her life be like if she were to change her rules and plan and…form an attachment to this man? Could she? Was she even capable of loving him, after everything that had happened to her? Did she want to? Was _she_ capable of _being_ loved?

"I think, however, that perhaps a bit of a game is in order." Legolas's words cut into her thoughts and she raised her eyebrows at his less-than-serious tone and the good humor written on his face.

"Oh?" His changing of the subject told her more than she cared to admit about the qualities of his patience.

"Indeed. Brethil wants to run, and I would very much enjoy letting him, even with an inch of snow upon the ground. Are you interested in a bit of a race?"

"To the far oak?"

"Sounds go—" Enguina spurred Lómë, and the black was gone. Legolas burst out laughing as he let Brethil race after her. Calling out to her as she thundered ahead of him and into the blizzard-like conditions, he cried, "I never said go, Enguina!"

"I _heard_ 'go!'" she called back, and then throwing him a sly little smile over her shoulder, she laughed, "Another fault! I do not play fair when it comes to games!"

He laughed and urged Brethil faster after her. "I noticed!"

* * *

 _Hush, hear the snow as it falls_

 _To each and every leaf_

 _Listen to the pit-pat of the flakes_

 _And feel the start of winter_

 _Through the chill and cold_

 _There is snow upon your skin_

 _Tickling and declaring_

 _That winter has arrived_

 _Snow is falling down_

 _Everything is still and quiet_

 _The joy of winter surrounds you_

 _And takes you to a place of peace_

 _Sleep my child in comfort warm_

 _But hush, and listen closely_

 _To the gentle sound of snow_

Arwen leaned on her elbows on the edge of the Embrasure and looked off across the Pelennor. She ran her hand across her belly, wrapping the shawl she wore closer about herself as a cold breeze blew. She could not help but smile as her Elven eyes saw Legolas and Enguina's horses racing alongside the Anduin. The snow was falling thickly now, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the feel of it on her skin.

Enguina was surprising her. Yes, she knew that her friend had grown shy in the years they had been apart, but it seemed that Legolas was doing his best to draw her out of hiding behind the walls she had built. Enguina had been hurt so terribly, but if she could find a kindred spirit in Legolas, perhaps she would not have to lose her to the Undying Lands after all. The thought filled her with delight. She wanted the best for Enguina… _and_ Legolas. She had seen the way Legolas was around her; it was the way _Aragorn_ revolved around _her_. She was the sun, and Legolas treated Enguina that way. If Enguina could find her peace, it would be a gift from Ilúvatar. She also had received a report from the guard that was on the watch of Enguina; Helden was his name. The Ranger remained posted at the lower gates, waiting for their return. So far, Enguina was safe and sound, and perfectly fine with Legolas.

The child moved within her, startling her out of her thoughts as she stroked her belly again. "Enguina is just like you, little one," she laughed, "a gift from Ilúvatar. Are you enjoying the snow with me? Are you dancing with the joy of falling snow?" She heard sudden laughter behind her and turned at the sound of the voices. Éowyn and Faramir were watching little Annî as she stumbled along through her first snowfall. Laughing and giggling with delight, she was headed towards Arwen with her arms outstretched. The snow was nearly two inches thick on the ground now.

Arwen walked towards her and met her in the snow-covered grass, scooping her up into her arms and laughing, kissing both her cheeks and then setting her back down so she could run back towards Faramir and Éowyn again. Annî tossed herself down into the snow and began scooping it up in big handfuls and throwing it back down.

"She is a treasure," said Arwen when they drew near.

"And she will be soaked through," laughed Faramir, "but I agree! She loves to play."

"So much like her father," added Éowyn, and Faramir wrapped an arm around her waist and squeezed her hip against his. "Tread carefully, husband."

"Mmm," he muttered, pressing his lips to her wet hair and he winked at Arwen over her head. "I promise I will."

Éowyn rolled her eyes as Arwen smiled, returning her eyes to little Andúnêiel. "I heard you singing another lullaby, Arwen," Éowyn said. "One of these days you shall have to sing for Annî again. She loves to listen to you sing, and I need to learn your lullabies."

"So do I," added Faramir, "well, not learn your lullabies. Honestly, I do not have much of a voice and sounding like anything Annî would _like_ to listen to is probably out of the question."

Arwen smiled at him. "Oh Faramir, do not make such remarks about yourself."

Éowyn nudged her with an elbow. "So, Legolas and Enguina rode out together today, hmm? Have they returned yet?"

Arwen shook her head but she gave a bit of a conspiratorial smile to Éowyn. "No, they have not returned yet; at the moment they are riding along the Anduin and enjoying each other's company."

"I am so glad to hear it. I was so worried the other day when that incident happened at the market, and _Legolas_ , I thought he was going to begin a brawl in the middle of the street!"

"It would have served the man right if he had, touching a lady that way in public!" Faramir demanded. "I wouldhave had him myself had I been present; I would have laid him out in the street."

Éowyn pushed him gently. "Then you both would have spent the night in the stocks. I am very pleased you were not present."

"Now, my love, would you have preferred that I would do nothing to defend a lady's honor? You cannot say Legolas was in the wrong when Enguina clearly needed the protection."

 _I would have hit him myself._ Arwen listened to them speak about the incident, but was glad that _she_ had not been there. She was afraid of what she might do if she were to see another man touch Enguina in a way she did not like. She would most definitely have cut the man's hands directly from his body…and that would have created quite a scene indeed. The Queen was expected to behave more like a Lady…and have a tad more self-control than anyone else. Arwen was unsure what her self-control would look like in that situation. She had seen too much of this sort of thing before, and she was fairly sure she would be completely uncontrolled if she were the one who needed to react. If there was no one to stop her…

"Arwen, do you think they will return for dinner?" asked Faramir, but she had not heard, her eyes staring off into the snow, looking back towards the Embrasure where she had last seen Enguina. "Arwen?" he asked again.

Jarred back into the present, she frowned at Faramir. "Forgive me…I was somewhere else."

"I could see that," he said gently. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," she replied, "I was only thinking. You were asking…"

"If you thought Legolas and Enguina would be back for dinner."

"Without a doubt. Enguina would not dream of missing a dinner meeting. I think she is enjoying herself here very much. I thank you both for your kindness in sharing in her stay here; she is really enjoying the companionship."

"I cannot believe it has been years since you have seen one another," Faramir added. "Elves live such long lives; it is amazing to think that you have been apart for so long." He leaned down and gave Annî a little push; she screamed and fell over into the snow, laughing hilariously. The snow was now almost three inches deep, and Faramir crouched down beside her…before he threw _himself_ down in it beside her.

"Faramir!" cried Éowyn, exasperated. "You will be soaking wet!" Arwen laughed as Annî cried out with delight and began throwing snow and then herself over Faramir's back. He yelled out and gave a huffing noise as though he was never going to be able to breathe or get up again. Éowyn sighed and then laughed at them as well. "Oh, Arwen…I cannot wait until your babe is born. How have you been feeling?"

She smiled. "Good…every morning I have a bit of nausea, but most of the time I have been able to calm it. Aragorn has been very helpful with all of the unknowns."

Éowyn laughed. "Yes, he knows quite a bit more about child bearing than the average man. But if you need something, please ask me. I may not have great advice, but perhaps I can provide some insight." There was more laughter from the ground, and Éowyn gave another sigh full of longsuffering. "Truly, Faramir?" He was tossing snow into Annî's hair and rolling her off of him into the thickening snow.

Snow struck Éowyn's dress and she glared at Faramir, but he just laughed and laughed. Annî did too, throwing more at her, as she had been the one doing the throwing. Éowyn knew quite well who had pushed her to do it, and in another few seconds, Éowyn was on top of Faramir in the snow and Annî had thrown herself on top of the pile. Faramir soon found himself yelling 'help' as Éowyn was roughing snow all throughout his hair.

Arwen stood by and laughed at them, running her hands over her little baby and hoping that one day she would be having just as much fun with Aragorn and her little one.

* * *

Arwen and Éowyn's hands had cooked the meal tonight, and though the room was fairly full, Legolas and Enguina had not yet arrived. As darkness was falling, this caused quite a stir.

"I cannot imagine where they could be," Éowyn said worriedly, looking out the window into the twilight. "The snow is still falling and they still have not returned!"

Arwen sighed and then shook her head with a smile. "Honestly, Éowyn, stop worrying! They are together, yes? Then they shall be fine. When they arrive, they will eat."

"Only if I leave them food!" chuckled Gimli. "These are some of the best mashed potatoes I've ever eaten! I swear it! They're missing some fine cooking."

"Indeed!" added Faramir, reaching over to catch Éowyn's arm. "Come to the table, love," he said softly to her. "Enguina is going to be fine. Do you not trust Legolas?"

"Of course I trust him!" scoffed Éowyn, frustrated. "But it _is_ a blizzard—"

"And they're elves!" laughed Gimli. "Don't worry about them! Maybe they're holed up somewhere and waiting for the storm to pass, but it's more likely they're just out running about on the top of it."

Éowyn went to sit beside Faramir and Arwen set plates down before them. "Take some food," Arwen instructed, and just as she did, the front door opened. Along with a burst of wind and a gust of snow, Aragorn entered, shaking snow from his hair.

"Aragorn!" laughed Faramir. "Glad you could join us at your own table!"

"You're soaked to the bone, lad!"

Arwen stepped up beside him, taking in his soggy and fairly haggard appearance. Laying a hand along his jaw, she spoke softly to him. "There are dry things for you on the bed."

He sighed and gave her a smile. "You are heaven-sent." She smiled, and he rested a hand over her womb. "How are you feeling?" he asked her softly and she nodded.

"Just fine," she returned. "Get warm, and join us for dinner." It was his turn to nod as she went back to handing out bowls of food.

He turned to Faramir. "Go ahead and eat; I will be back in moments."

"Some of us, namely the _dwarf_ , began already!" he laughed in reply.

As Aragorn slipped out of the room and went to dry off and dress, he heard Gimli grumbling to Faramir behind him and it made him smile. The heat from the fireplace in the sitting room felt good on his soaked skin as he crossed into their bedroom. As he changed, he toweled himself dry and dressed in the tunic and trousers Arwen had lain out. He loved the company of their friends, and he was glad that after a week or so he was finally going to be able to enjoy it.

Returning barefoot back to the dining room, he stopped to lean against the doorframe as he watched his lovely wife do one of the things she did best. He loved to watch her take care of their extended family; did everyone have enough? Who was making sure Annî was eating? What was missing on the table? She had enough concern for all, and she caught him watching her as she looked up and gave him a little smile. He returned it, but continued to watch for several moments, mesmerized by the beauty of her pregnant form. Éowyn happened to glance up herself and see him leaning there, his eyes fixed on Arwen. She smirked to herself and nudged Faramir, who could not, of course, resist interrupting him.

"Coming to dinner, Aragorn?" the man asked teasingly. Aragorn looked down, smiling sheepishly at him, and then pushed off the wall so he could take his place at Arwen's left hand and the head of the table. He shoved Faramir gently in the shoulder as he went by, but the other man only laughed; Arwen did not appear to notice their horseplay.

There was a noticeable absence at the table, and as Aragorn began scooping food out for himself, he had to ask the question. "Where are Legolas and Enguina? They were to ride together today, yes?"

"Aye," Gimli replied, "before the storm hit they went riding. I'm sure they're just fine."

"Without a doubt," Aragorn said, and gave Annî a smile from down the table. "I saw _you_ playing in the snow today with your father." She gave him a grin and laughed as she swung a fork around with some potatoes on it.

"Annî," Éowyn chided, "put them in your mouth; do not swing them about so!" Annî shoved the pile into her mouth and her cheeks puffed out as a chipmunk.

Faramir grinned at Aragorn. "The snow was beautiful today. We spent as much time as we could enjoying it."

"It looked delightful," he replied. "I wish I could have joined you."

"Perhaps you will get to enjoy it on your morning ride," Éowyn said. "How many inches do we have now? It was nearly five before we came inside the House to start the meal."

"Eight," Aragorn said, "and it is thick enough to build snowmen."

Arwen gasped and grinned at Annî across the table. "Annî, tomorrow, we will build Daddy out of snow! What do you think of that?" The little girl grinned and laughed, reaching out to catch Faramir's chin in her hand as he made a silly face at her, getting potatoes from her hand all over his chin. Éowyn covered her face with her hand.

"Can we bury him in it, too?" she laughed, and Faramir glanced around Annî to look at her.

"Now, see here," he complained, "you were just groaning today about the fact that I was soaking wet. You cannot possibly wish to make it worse tomorrow by burying me in snow."

"I think," Arwen pointed out, "that she was complaining until she leapt _on_ you in the snow." Éowyn's face turned red a moment and Faramir opened his mouth to protest but then looked a bit thoughtful.

"True. Well, I am up for a bit of snow silliness tomorrow morning if everyone else is. _Before_ our meeting of course," he added to Aragorn.

"Daddy!" yelled Andúnêiel.

Faramir leaned over to her and she put both of her potato covered hands on his face. "Yuck," he said to her, but laughed, and Éowyn turned to look at Arwen, leaning her elbow on the table and laying her hand against her cheek.

"Perhaps your child will be more cleanly," she sighed and Arwen smiled back at her.

"I hope not," she replied, letting her hand fall to her stomach. She felt Aragorn's hand on her knee beneath the table. "Children are meant to have fun, yes? Playing with Annî will keep you young, Éowyn…and Faramir, of course."

"Playing with Annî will keep her young," suggested Faramir, "or playing with _me_ will keep her young?"

Arwen rolled her eyes at him, and Éowyn shot him a look. "Honestly, playing with _you_ will give me a headache." Aragorn laughed at the two of them, and Faramir grinned at her. He leaned in front of Annî, reached around the back of Éowyn's neck in a swift move and tugged her across in front of their child to press her lips to his for a quick kiss. Éowyn then pulled back and wiped off Faramir's potato-covered chin.

Outside, they heard a sudden scream and then loud laughter. Aragorn's head shot up, but Arwen only turned to look at him; there was no worry in her eyes, only amusement. "Here they come."

* * *

For the second time in her life since her troubles had begun in Lothlórien, Enguina felt truly comfortable with a male. She had been surprised today to find herself growing very accustomed to the way Legolas looked at her and the ready smile that was always there to make one break upon her own face…and she was now welcoming it. She felt almost as if she could really trust him; as if nothing bad or wrong could ever happen when she was near to him.

They had left the stable together after putting the horses away and rubbing them down and blanketing them. It was cold, and they were soaking wet from all of the snow, so they spent some extra time working with them to warm them up. Now they walked along the snow-covered streets up towards the seventh level.

"What a beautiful night," Enguina said as she looked up at the sky. It was still snowing, but it was not gathering very much at the moment. Legolas smiled as he looked at her, taking a full account of the snow in her hair and the way the moon lit her eyes.

"Ilúvatar makes so many beautiful things," he said softly, but before she could look over at him, he averted his eyes. It was difficult for him not to stare at her, though he had a feeling she would not like him to do so. There was something about her beauty that captivated him, and it was not only physical. She seemed to enjoy his company, and he certainly enjoyed hers. She made him _yearn_ to be there for her forever…he had seen the thankfulness in her eyes when he had protected her. He wanted her to feel safe with him. She acted like she was.

"We saw many of them today," she added, watching the light on his face as they walked. He had looked away; she was sure of it. Why? "Thank you, again, Legolas. You seem so at ease here. Do you really love it that much?"

"I do enjoy the City," he said honestly. "When I first came here, it was devastated by war and falling into ruin because of a man who did not know how to bring back its beauty and light; it had been falling apart for long lines of men. Faramir and his brother would have been good stewards, but their Father was a difficult man. Aragorn has softened the hearts of the people and given them hope. This is a different city than it once was."

"I can see its beauty now," Enguina offered. "When I first arrived…" she blushed, and then admitted, "I did not see _any_ beauty in it. I could not imagine how in the world someone like Arwen would be able to live in such a place."

"After being here five days," Legolas asked, "you feel differently?"

"Well, yes!" she laughed. "There _is_ much beauty to be found here. I…I was judgmental…and wrong." He stopped, and they were directly across from the gardens covered in white. His eyes began to narrow as he studied her, and she grew nervous. "What?" she asked. "What did I say?"

"You admitted you were wrong?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "That does not sound like something the woman who laughed at some madman on the Pelennor would do."

She shoved him in the shoulders and he stumbled back a few steps, laughing. "You are cruel, Legolas. You promised to be nice!"

"That was _days_ ago," he insisted, beginning to walk beside her again. "A deal such as that is only active for a short time…then it expires."

"You told me that if I allowed you to escort me around the City when Arwen was not around that you would be nice. How can that expire?"

"Well, it now requires more payment on your part or I will stop."

"I am not sure you kept up your part of the deal to begin with," she laughed, "but go on!" He turned his head and grinned at her.

"May I be permitted to escort you to breakfast tomorrow?"

"'May I?' I thought this was a demand for payment?" she teased.

He eyed her a moment. "In order for me to at least _appear_ gentlemanly, I need to use nice language. I was trying not to be too pushy."

She met his eyes. "Is that all?"

"I have promised to help Gimli's kinsmen tomorrow on the wall they are finishing. Would you be willing to accompany me there and spend the day with me?"

It _was_ quite a forward request; he was no longer offering to give her a tour, he was instead inviting her to spend time with _him_ as he made time to help someone else. This was something a bit different, another dynamic she was unsure about. Yes, they had been alone today, but he was still giving her a tour. She hesitated a moment and then shoved back her hesitation with a vengeance. She was _enjoying_ time with Legolas…why should she not go?

"I would be willing to spend the day with you," she replied softly. He smiled at her.

"Good," he said, "then I will come to the guest house in the morning about dawn—"

" _Dawn?_ "

He chuckled. "Not an early riser then."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You certainly do have an interesting way of discovering things about people."

"Well, it is better than asking a hundred questions and hoping you will answer them." She shook her head.

"What time then?"

"How about eight?" he asked. "I will come and then escort you to breakfast."

"You said 'breakfast' twice now," she said suspiciously, "do you not intend to go to the King's House?" He gave her a sly little smile, and then turned and faced forward again, not answering her question. The King's House was just ahead.

"Keep your secrets, then," she said with a laugh.

"You shall just have to wait in suspense until morning," he joked with her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I am not sure I am quite _that_ interested."

"Oh, you are," he continued, "but you do not wish me to know." He saw her scoff at him out of the corner of his eye. "You simply wish to pretend that you are not to lessen my hopes, but I am not going to fall for that."

He threw up his hands just a _second_ too late in order to prevent the snowball from hitting him in the center of the chest. Stumbling back a few steps from her side, he felt another hit him in the back. "Oh you did not!" he laughed, snatching up snow and flinging it back over his shoulder. He heard her gasp and knew he must have hit her. He dodged another and turned back, flinging another snowball or two.

Within moments, the area outside of the King's House was a battlefield, full of snow thrown about and shouts of laughter and Enguina's screams as snow was pummeling her and Legolas's huffs as his chest was hit as well. After getting hit with fifteen balls, Enguina dropped over in the snow, panting.

"Enough! Enough!" she cried, laughing, her hair full of snow. "You win!" She opened her eyes and found Legolas standing over her with a positively _enormous_ pile of snow in his arms. "No, honestly, you win!"

"Are you sure? I am ready to fight to the death and end this with your utter defeat."

"You _clearly_ have had more practice," she said, holding her arms over her head. "Please, really…I have certainly lost. I surrender."

He studied her. "All right." Just as he went to drop the snow, Enguina swung around and took him out at the legs, knocking him to the ground and causing his armful of snow to dump all over him. All his breath went out as he hit the stone, but his vengeance was swift as she tried to roll away and he caught her forearm with the tips of his fingers. In another instant, she screamed as she laughed while he swept snow up and over her body.

"Stop! Stop!" she said, rolling to a sitting position after he did it twice more.

"You asked for it!" he laughed.

"I suppose I should have been prepared for the consequences!"

"And I should have remembered you do not play fair!" he laughed as he extended a hand to her and drew her to her feet. He laughed harder when he saw how covered with snow she was, and she did the same as she looked at him. She gave him a little push as the two of them climbed the front steps to the House, shaking themselves and brushing off their clothes. As Legolas reached for the door, the two of them still laughing, it suddenly opened.

"Whoa!" Faramir yelled, leaning against the doorframe and holding both hands out. "You two are _not_ getting any food without drying off first!"

Legolas chuckled, and shook his head. "Come now, Faramir, let us in."

"Absolutely not!" he replied.

"Really?" said Enguina, shaking out her hair.

"Faramir," chided Arwen from behind him. " _Let them in_."

"All right, but they are going to get snow all over your house."

"Worse than Aragorn?" came Éowyn's voice and he stepped out of their way.

"See for yourself!" he laughed, and let them come inside.

"Good lord," Arwen laughed, getting up from the table. "Let me get you some towels!"

Gimli cracked up, doubling over on the table, and Legolas chuckled himself, having enough sense to look a bit sheepish as he met Aragorn's shining eyes. "What? It was wet outside!"

"As if the whole of Minas Tirith could not hear the two of you _screaming_!" laughed Éowyn as Annî laughed at Gimli laughing.

"Who was screaming?" asked Enguina innocently.

"I believe it was you," Legolas pointed out.

"I cannot imagine why," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "It was _your_ fault with that armful of snow!"

"I saw the whole thing!" laughed Faramir from behind them. "And it was _you_ , Lady, who started the throwing. Legolas just finished it." He clapped the elf on the shoulder. "Quite _well_ , I might add!"

Arwen came back into the room and called them towards her with her hand. "Come in by the fire, you two, and get dry." Legolas held out his arm and Enguina shook her head as she followed her friend to the other room. Arwen handed them a few towels and they both began to dry off, standing before the fire.

"They cannot entirely blame me, you know," Enguina said to him, "they did not hear what you were saying."

"Please," he laughed, "do not try to get out of the fact that it was your fault. You threw the snow _and_ you knocked me over."

"And _you_ covered me with snow!"

"It was retaliation for what _you_ did!" Enguina turned to strike back with something, but caught the smirk on Arwen's face as she stood right beside them.

"Fight nicely, children," she murmured, and Legolas turned to see her standing there as well. Both of them blushed, but they laughed as she continued with a smile. "When the two of you are a bit warmer, come in and get your dinner. We do have some clothes—"

"No, no, we shall be fine, Arwen," laughed Legolas. "You are far too kind."

Enguina smiled at her, toweling her hair. "We will be right in."

"You are both really wet. Please, I know we have something that would fit—"

"Arwen," chided Enguina, "sit, eat. We can take care of ourselves and you have probably been on your feet all day."

She laughed. "Truly? I am only five months!"

"Soon to be six!" Enguina laughed, turning her away towards the door. "Please, go. We will be fine. Thank you for the towels."

If she had not thought that she knew better, Arwen would have felt as though she was being pushed out so that Enguina and Legolas could be alone. She was not about to argue if that was what Enguina really wanted, but she could not resist causing them a bit more argument. "Did something change from when we were in Lothlórien?" she asked.

Enguina stared at her, and Legolas looked up from wiping off his face. "To what are you referring?"

"I thought you hated being wet?"

Enguina blushed fiercely and stuttered out, "I do—"

"What? Why did you not speak of _that_ more timely!" Legolas asked, looking quite abashed. His heart sank. Had she not been having fun? "I am so—"

"Wait," she interrupted, exasperated at her own embarrassment and holding up a hand, "let me explain! I do not like _water_ in general. I have never been in the snow before. This is _different,_ Arwen."

" _Oh_ ," Arwen said, giving her a wry smile, "I see… _different_." Enguina stared at her with her mouth open as Legolas gave Arwen a devilish grin the older elf did not see. "Come out when you are dry and would like to eat."

Arwen turned and moved towards the door. At the threshold, she stopped and looked back at the two of them standing silhouetted in the firelight. She leaned her head against the doorframe and studied them, their heads close together, whisper-arguing about who was to blame for embarrassing themselves, Enguina's hair now curling, Legolas's hanging straighter than a blade. It was so… _sweet_ … _romantic._ She wanted to sigh, to see her best friend with someone who cared for her, clearly adored her; this was what she always dreamed of for Enguina. She smiled, delighted in every way, and left them alone.

* * *

" _Please_ let me get you something dry to put on," Arwen begged, staring at her across the table. "Just looking at you is giving me the chills."

The door had just closed behind Faramir as they were the last company to depart the King's House. Dinner had been very pleasant, and everyone was looking forward to the following day where there might be more snow fun. Annî was especially excited. Legolas reminded her he would see her in the morning, and that had made her smile. But Arwen was still staring at her, and she needed to respond.

She sighed. "If you must." Arwen practically hurtled from her seat to get Enguina clothes and she laughed, holding her cup of tea closer to her hands. Aragorn gave her a smile and she shook her head. "She is incorrigible."

"She knows you are soaked to the bone," he said gently. "How about we move into the other room? It will be much warmer in there. And you cannot fool me with the elf act…you still get cold if you have been in the snow all day." She blushed as he scooped up her mug from her hands. "Come along, Enguina." She followed him into the other room as he moved a chair closer to the fire for her. As she sat, he returned her tea and she watched him as he folded himself into a chair, pressing his bare feet into the furry rug on the floor before the hearth.

"Legolas said you both had a nice ride across the Pelennor. Was your horse—"

"Oh _Eru in heaven_!" she said, blushing furiously and burying her face in one hand as she laughed. "I am _so sorry_! I had no idea—"

"Please," he said, extending a hand towards her, "I hardly meant to embarrass you! I only desired to see if he was better today."

She sighed, and carefully looked up at him, only to see his face lit with concern instead of amusement. "Yes, he was…much better. I decided to name him Lómë as you suggested and he was much more cooperative."

"I am very glad to hear it," he stated, and Arwen returned from their bedroom with a dress for Enguina.

"Here, go dry off and put this on," she said, handing Enguina the dress and another towel. Enguina gaped at the beautiful dress.

"Arwen, no, I could not possibly—"

She was silenced by Arwen's glare. "If you make one comment about wearing this dress—"

"All right!" she said, taking them from her and setting down her mug. "Where can I—"

"In here," Arwen said, taking her arm and leading her to their bedroom. "Go ahead and change and leave your wet things over there in the bath."

"Arwen—"

"Please, change!" she said, laughing, pushing her into the room and closing the door behind her. Enguina stared back at the door and then stared around the room she was in. It was simple but beautiful…decorated with wooden dressers and a large bed with a carving of the white tree and seven stars emblazoned across the headboard. She walked closer to the bath and peered in, taking in all of the furnishings while all the time wondering… _wondering_ …

Moving back out into the bedroom, she stood staring at the bed for a moment. She found herself embarrassed that she was staring at that bed and thinking of her best friend lying there, sleeping beside a man. She wondered what it was like…to have someone who loved you like Arwen swore Aragorn felt for her…and have that person love you for reasons other than beauty. Arwen had that relationship, that love: she was married, she was a Queen, she was having a child, _and_ it was clear she had the _man_. Enguina peered out the crack in the door, holding the dress Arwen had forced into her hands against her chest.

Standing by the fire, Arwen was leaning against him as he clearly just reached around her to hold her in his arms; he kissed her forehead. Lifting her head from his shoulder to look up into his face, he rested his brow against hers; he looked into her eyes and murmured something so low that even her sharp hearing could not catch it. But it was love's reflection in his eyes that Enguina could clearly see. How could she have ever doubted his love for her? Just to see the way he looked at her made her knees grow weak! The way his hands rested on her back, the way Arwen's eyes were closed in bliss at the feel of him against her; she had to look away and close the door.

Her eyes filled with tears as she dropped Arwen's dress onto their bed and began removing her own wet clothes; yes, Arwen slept beside a man…but she also slept _with_ a man. What was it like to make love _because_ you loved, not because someone wanted to take you? What was it like to be _touched_ like that, to be one with someone who wanted to be with you for always? What was it like to tremble in anticipation instead of fear? To look up into someone's eyes and see love instead of a burning desire to hurt you? She wanted to live like that…be _loved_ like that.

As she began pulling the dress on over her head, she thought of the love, the concern she had seen in Aragorn's eyes. She _knew_ that concern; she had seen it in Legolas's face earlier this week. Could it be possible that Legolas might one day feel for her what Aragorn felt for Arwen? She had always wanted to be loved like that…did she have the courage to stay and see if it was possible? Did she want _Legolas_ to be the one? She had a feeling she already knew the answer to _that_ question; it frightened her that she knew what she really wanted, but her head and her heart were still struggling to come to terms with her past. Legolas did not know about what had happened; if he found out the truth…well, she knew exactly what would happen—his affection would surely change. It _would_ …she was sure of it no matter what Arwen had said. She straightened the dress, which fit almost perfectly, and went out into the other room, hoping she would not embarrass either of them.

She found that Aragorn had sat Arwen in his chair by the fire and she was resting her head against the back of it, her eyes only half-open. He stood just off to the side of her, a hand stroking her hair, his thumb dragging from the center of her forehead to her temple.

"That is so beautiful on you," Arwen said with a smile. "It looks so much better on you than it does on me. The dress is yours."

"Oh, stop," Enguina replied, but just looking at her made her worried. She walked forward and crouched down beside the chair, resting a hand on her arm.

She laughed softly when she saw Enguina's expression. "Do not look so worried!"

"What is the matter?" she asked seriously. Arwen rolled her eyes.

"I am _fine_. Dinner is not sitting well." She looked up at Aragorn. "Sit, please," and then she glanced at Enguina as well, " _both_ of you. I will be fine in a few moments."

"Are you…you are _ill_?" Enguina asked, astonished at how pale Arwen's skin was. She reached up and touched her cheek; it was a bit clammy.

"It happens from time to time when a woman is with child," Aragorn said softly, though it appeared he was having difficulty as well moving away from her side.

"I am _fine_ ," Arwen stressed, waving her off to sit.

"Is this what you meant the other morning?" she asked softly. "Erumar was never ill at all." Even though she did not want to, at Arwen's beckoning she returned to her seat. Aragorn drew a chair within arm's reach of Arwen and sat within it.

"Erumar was an elf and was immortal," Arwen pointed out. "I am mortal, and therefore get all of the pleasures of being so…including this one."

Aragorn chuckled at her words. "Do not worry, Enguina…it passes."

Enguina looked doubtful, but Arwen interrupted whatever she was going to say. "You and Legolas appeared as though you were having a great time today. Tell us about it. What did you see? There was so much conversation at dinner that I did not catch all of it."

She laughed. "We rode out along the Anduin by the sycamores, and it _was_ very beautiful," she admitted. "Snow was falling everywhere and catching on everything…and I had never ridden in the snow before. You know it never snowed within Lothlórien."

Arwen smiled. "The snow was gorgeous today. Annî was playing in it and enjoying herself; she was fun to watch. It will be fun to watch our own children play in it someday," she said, resting a hand on her womb. "Where else did you go?"

Enguina's eyes followed her hand. "We rode all the way to the Outer Wall of the Pelennor and followed all the way along it for several miles. Your guards are hardy men," she said to Aragorn and he nodded. "They braved the entire storm and even gave us shelter for a few hours before we rode back. It was…fun."

Arwen smiled. "'Fun?'"

"Yes," she said a bit defensively, but offered no more information.

"And was Legolas kind to you?" asked Aragorn. Enguina raised her eyebrows.

"Has he a history of not being kind?"

Aragorn chuckled. "Of course not. He is the best sort of man I have ever known. I was more…seeking your impression of Legolas."

"Yes, he was kind…and thoughtful. He is," she hesitated and then ploughed onward, "hilariously funny, and he genuinely cares for…people. I know he…wants to get to know me better."

Arwen smiled. "He likes you quite a lot."

She blushed. "I _did_ notice that, oddly enough."

"And you? Do you like him?" she pried, and Enguina narrowed her eyes at her.

" _Arwen_ …" she muttered, blushing even more fiercely.

"Let her be," Aragorn said gently, and Enguina gave him a grateful look. Arwen smiled, closing her eyes, glad that Enguina was clearly aided by his presence.

"Oh, do not help her, beloved," she said softly. "She weasels much worse than me."

Enguina rolled her eyes and sighed. "You never did weasel very well. I refuse to say any more about myself, but I will agree that Legolas appears to enjoy my company. He…told me that his intentions are…" She drifted off, unsure what she wanted to say or if she wanted to repeat it aloud.

There was a long pause. "His intentions are?" asked Aragorn softly.

"Well, he told me they were very serious," she said, and she looked over to Arwen and met her eyes. She began to wring her hands a little bit, and Arwen leaned over and pressed her hand into them.

"Stop that," she said gently, and Enguina sighed.

"I cannot! I am worried," she muttered. "I do not know what to do! And _you_ do not look any better; _please_ sit back!" Arwen gave her a little smile in spite of the way she felt.

"If you will stop."

"I…I will try, just _please_ …" Aragorn stood and took Arwen's shoulders in his hands, tugging her gently against the back of the chair again. She sighed and leaned her head back.

Aragorn released her and then leaned over himself and slipped a hand between Enguina's wringing ones. She had not even noticed she had begun again, and when his hands entered hers, she looked up at him, startled. "You need not do anything," Aragorn reassured her.

If anything, this startled her more than his touch. "What?"

"Any woman that a man is truly interested in is worth waiting for, Enguina. Legolas _is_ interested, attracted to you, and you know it. You need not make a choice right now; you should simply enjoy the time you have together."

"I…I do not need to make a choice?" she asked incredulously, staring at him. Why should Aragorn reassure her, especially being such good friends with Legolas? "But…what if Legolas expects—"

" _Forget_ expectations, Enguina," he said sincerely. "You enjoyed your time with Legolas, yes?" She eyed him, wondering if it was a trick question.

"Yes…"

"Then focus on tomorrow. Forget the future for now and just enjoy the company of a good man. Be yourself." He gave her a smile. "I think you know how to do that. Stop judging yourself and stop thinking that you have to have a decision about your entire future made in a few days. _Relax_ …no one is rushing you."

She looked at him as he squeezed her hand and released her, turning to take his seat beside Arwen. Enguina began to realize that he was probably right. Who _was_ rushing her? Legolas certainly was not applying any pressure aside from spending time with her, and the time they had spent had been quite nice. The only pressure on her to make a decision was personal pressure; _she_ felt as though she was the one who needed to know what to do.

"Aragorn is right, you know," Arwen said softly.

"I…I _do_ know," she said softly. "Thank you for your encouragement."

"I only hoped to bring you a bit of peace," he replied. "But I do have a question for you," he added as he laid a hand on Arwen's arm and rubbed her skin gently beneath his hand, noticing her eyes still closed and her head still tilted back. "I suddenly realized that you had used the name 'Erumar' before. Did you know her well?"

She smiled at his change of topic, glad for it and allowed it to bring her some comfort. "Yes, I knew her _very_ well. She came to Lothlórien with Arwen many years ago and fell in love with my brother. We have been very close ever since."

Aragorn stared at her for a moment as the sudden realization poured over him; he swiftly recognized the features he had made note of the first time he had seen her and why she looked _so_ familiar. "Erumar was married to—"

"My brother, Haldir. Did you know Erumar?" she asked, a bit confused. "She never mentioned you…" Then she glanced at Arwen. "Or was this part of your elaborate scheme to keep me in the dark about Aragorn?"

"Scheme? No," Arwen said gently. "It…was not the right time."

"You are Haldir's sister?" Aragorn asked as Enguina nodded. "I knew them both very well," he said softly. "Erumar was wonderful to me when I stayed in Lórien those many years ago."

"When you met Arwen again," Enguina stated, and it was his turn to nod.

"I met your brother then as well," he continued. "He and I…disagreed at first on several things, but at the end of my time there, we had become good friends."

"Aragorn saved his life," Arwen said and Enguina looked back at Aragorn.

"Really?"

"To be truthful, we saved each other's lives numerous times," Aragorn said. "There was an orc attack and he and I were the only two left alive to provide defense on the northwestern border. We both had poisoned wounds and though he nearly died, we made it back by the grace of Ilúvatar."

"I was away during that time," Enguina said softly, her respect for Aragorn growing by the moment. "When I returned, he was changed, different…and he treated Erumar differently as well."

"A moment near death changes a man," Aragorn said honestly. "He had regrets…he did not wish to live with them ever again."

Enguina smiled sadly at him. "Since you knew my brother well, I regret that I have news of him that would grieve you. Haldir died in the Great War; we received word that he had perished in Rohan at the Battle of Helm's Deep. I was told he fought courageously." Her eyes grew misty and she looked away. "I miss him."

Aragorn sighed, his heart grieved. "I know your brother was killed there," he said very gently. "I was near his side when he was taken." She looked back into his face, surprise on her features.

"You…you were there?"

Aragorn nodded. "On the wall, yes. Your brother was a valiant soldier and I fought at his side for many hours before we were forced to retreat to the Keep. He was struck down by two Uruk-hai; I killed many to try and reach him in time, but I…I could not get to him. He was gone before I even reached his side." His eyes were sad when Enguina met his. "He was a good friend; I wish I could have saved him."

"You did all you could by the sound of it," she replied, wiping her eyes. "Forgive me; Haldir and I were very close." She was quiet for a few moments, and so was he, thinking back to the last moments of the elf's life as he had placed his hand on Haldir's chest.

"He had come to my aid when we were desperate for it," Aragorn whispered.

"Lord Elrond and the Lady asked them to go. He was eager to help," she replied. "If you saved his life, he would have been happy to repay that debt, no matter what."

"Your brother was a good man."

"He was," she added, looking at the sorrow in Aragorn's face.

"When I look at you, I can see something of him. I knew there was something familiar about you when we first met, but I did not place it at the time. I am glad you are here with us, and sorry that I have never met you before…and that I did not realize such a connection more quickly."

"It is all right," Enguina replied. She glanced at Arwen; clearly her friend had not told her husband anything about her. In some ways, she thought this was a good thing; he could not judge her if he did not know.

"And Erumar?" he asked softly. "Is she still in Lórien?"

Her face grew sad. "If you knew Erumar as she was, she has changed. Haldir's death broke her heart, but…she is still there. I thought perhaps she might travel with me to the Grey Havens," she continued, shaking her head, "but she would not leave Lothlórien."

"At least she is with her children."

"No, my Lord, her children traveled with not even a year after the Lady."

"Oh, Erumar," Arwen said softly. "She should have gone with them."

"As I said, I thought she would have traveled with me, but…she said she could not leave. She keeps trying to remember it the way it was, but it cannot be the same. _She_ cannot be the same." She sighed. "She was unable to wish him well, to say goodbye, their leaving was so sudden, and when we received word of his death…she was devastated."

Aragorn suddenly reached over and touched Arwen's chin with his fingers, tilting her head slowly towards him. "You need to lie down," he said and she nodded slowly. Enguina sat up straighter.

"Is she all right?"

"Fine," Arwen muttered, but she was a bit paler than she had been.

"Bedtime?" Enguina asked softly, and Aragorn nodded. Arwen placed her hand on his arm to prevent him from doing what he was about to do, but he ignored her and scooped her up into his arms, cradling her to his chest.

"Wait," Arwen said softly, and she dropped her hand down from Aragorn's arms and Enguina took it. "Will we see you for dinner, Enguina?"

"Yes," she replied, kissing Arwen's hand, "only not for breakfast; Legolas has some plan, I suppose."

Arwen smiled. "Good," she said, drawing her hand back into her chest, "Sleep well, love."

"Wait a moment, and I will walk you home," Aragorn said to Enguina as he caught the worry on her face as she looked at her friend.

"Oh no," she said suddenly, embarrassed as she got to her feet, "it is all right. I will be—"

"I insist." The words were firm, and it was clear there would not be another word. He carried Arwen into their bedroom as Enguina watched from the hearth. He laid her gently down and rolled her onto her side, resting his hands on either side of the bed over her and leaning down to kiss her gently on the forehead. She watched Arwen reach up and stroke the side of his face. "Call for me if you need me," she heard him whisper. Arwen's eyes fluttered closed and he kissed her temple then. He came back out to Enguina.

"Truly, my Lord—"

"Aragorn," he said softly, "and come, let me walk you home." As they walked outside and Aragorn closed the door, he turned to her and gave her a little smile. "A Lady should be accompanied, even in a place usually as quiet as Minas Tirith. And Arwen would have my head if I allowed you to walk home alone."

Enguina glanced back at the door and then to Aragorn. "I am worried about her; I have never seen her unwell. I…I do not know what to do. Does it mean there is something wrong with the baby? I know we struggle to bear children—"

"She needs to lie down when she is ill," he said softly. "The sickness is from the changes taking place in her body; it might go away in five minutes, it might be all night. It depends on the day. But it is no different than any other woman who has borne a child for the last few thousand years." He gave her a smile. "Though, I, too, irritate her; I worry about her constantly."

"So the baby is fine?" she asked, the child at the heart of the matter.

"Yes," he replied, "and Arwen will be fine, too."

The question she had been dying to ask since she met him popped into her mind. She could not go another moment without knowing, without asking it. "How could you stand to leave her?"

"It is…difficult," he admitted, "but she would kill me if I was to stand hovering about her all day long, and I have my duties. Of course I would rather be with her; if I was able to stay at her side all day, every day, I would…but that is a bit unnecessary. If she calls, I will be there for her."

She looked at him as they walked slowly back to the guest house, side by side. "You…you are nothing as I expected."

He smiled humbly and bowed his head to her. "Often do I receive such a sentiment." He tilted his head and gave her a crooked smile. "I am not very kingly."

"Oh…it is not _that_ ," she refuted him, shaking her head. "It is that you are so soft spoken, so wise…I…did not expect that from a man. I could not fathom at all why Arwen would have married a mortal instead of an elf…but you are more like an elf than I would have thought."

"I was raised by the Lord Elrond in Imladris, where I first met Arwen. I grew up with Arwen's brothers, and learned their culture before my own," he said gently. "I am…more a Ranger than a King, though Arwen would say the position suits me well."

"Others would say, too," Enguina said softly. "Everywhere I go in this City, the people sing your praise! And…you clearly love Arwen; I am very happy for her. My greatest fear was to come here and find…well," she laughed, "it seems so foolish now! But my greatest fear was that you had somehow forced her into marriage and that she did not love you…and that you stole the last treasure of the Elven kingdoms." She chanced to look at him. "I regret to say _that_ is what I thought of you. I…regret to say that I thought perhaps you did not care enough to come home for dinner because you were a thoughtless human. I am ashamed of how I felt, as I feel so differently now." She sighed, blushing. "Legolas told me that I was judgmental; he did not know how right he was."

"That sounds like Legolas. He has no…respect for your feelings when he speaks his mind." He laughed softly. "Beware of that in the future."

"Oh no, no!" she said, holding up her hands. "I am perfectly serious. He was very right about what he said. But…I will try to be better and look at your City as the place it is, not what I assumed it was. Or you…you are so different than what I thought. I am sorry."

"Do not be. The world is different than you knew, Enguina; who does not find _that_ when they travel out of their small circle into greater circles?" He gave her a smile and then waved a hand towards her door as they arrived.

"You should be getting home to Arwen," she said, smiling.

"I do wish to say one more thing. I am glad you had a pleasant time today with Legolas." Aragorn smiled at her. "Rarely have I seen Legolas so attentive to someone, and it makes me very happy that you are receiving his attentions. He is a good man, and he will respect you to the utmost." She blushed, but he pretended not to notice. "And now, yes, it is time for me to return to Arwen."

"Thank you, for walking me home."

"Tomorrow evening, then," he said with a smile, and he waited for her to go inside before he turned away and walked back to the House.

* * *

 _Her back was crushing the grass beneath her._

 _"No one will come for you, fair one…"_

 _Terror filled her. She could barely breathe beneath the gag, her hands tied tightly above her head, her shoulder paining as though he had driven the dagger down through it instead of the rope to pin her hands down. She felt his hands against her breasts, the front of her dress torn down to her stomach. Struggling to get him off her, tears rolling down her face, she threw her weight from side to side. 'Arwen…Arwen…please!'_

 _"No, I cannot have_ that _," he said nastily, and he grabbed her hips in his hands. She tried to fight back, snarling against the sleeve of her dress, knocking her knee against him and jamming the leg between them, shoving him back. He snatched one of her ankles in his hand and she kicked him in the jaw with her other foot._

 _"Stop! Stop!" but her words were so muffled he would not have understood nor cared. She tried to haul herself up and off the knife, but he reached forward and backhanded her hard across the face, bruising her eye almost immediately. He hit her twice more. As she was lying there dazed, he yanked her dress up past her hips and drove himself between her knees, pressing her legs to the ground and kneeling on the inside of her knees. It_ hurt _, and she cried out desperately for someone to hear her. She felt his hand crack her across the face again._

 _"She is not coming!" he snapped. "But if you are quiet, if you lay still, I will not hurt you."_

 _She felt his hand between her legs and she panicked, flinging her body about as much as she could, straining the muscles in her legs and wrenching her back. His hands—oh god!—his hands did_ not _belong touching her there! She could not get him off her; she could not force him from her body. There was no way she could fight him; he was too strong! He gripped her thighs now with both hands to hold her in place. Her eyes were frozen to his, tears streaming from them, even as she could not tear them away._

 _"Stay still!" he snarled, his long fingers digging into her skin so hard his hands bruised. "This will not take very long, fair one…it will hurt, but it will not take long._ _ **You are**_ _ **mine**_ _."_

A scream split the morning as Enguina came wide awake, rolling off the bed onto the floor and hitting her head hard. Within seconds, she was on her hands and knees retching, her stomach swimming with the feel of his hands all over her body. Her head pounded; her whole body was soaked with sweat and shaking like a leaf. Terror took over her mind. _She had to get out of this house, had to be somewhere safe._ The words he had last spoken echoed in her mind. _**You are mine.**_

Shoving herself backwards onto her feet, she stumbled into the dresser, slamming her hip hard off the corner. She cursed aloud and fell against the wall, one hand clutching her hip, the other her head. Her face was soaked, from tears or sweat she had no idea. She stumbled forward and snatched her wrap with trembling hands, dropping it to the floor in the hallway and running too fast to return and get it. After falling out of her front door, she awkwardly moved down the street. How she avoided the guards, she did not know. It was still dark out; she had no idea what time of night or morning it was.

Her bare feet mushed snow beneath them as she stumbled along and then finally up the stones toward the King's House. She had nowhere else to go…and she could not be alone. Every shadow terrified her; the wind grabbed at her like snatching hands and she began to shake even more forcefully. She practically fell up the steps and into the front door, landing hard against her shoulder and then her knees gave out and she dropped like a stone, resting her head against the door, panting. Exhausted, lifting a shaking hand to knock, she was close to collapse.

* * *

Aragorn stroked Arwen's hair and face with his hand. She had just fallen asleep a little over an hour ago, exhausted from heaving. He had gotten her to drink some water and have a bit of nearly tasteless cram; her head lay on his leg as she was half in his lap. He was worried about her, but he knew when she woke in the morning that she would be all right. He _hated_ seeing her this way; it was completely unnatural. Moving his fingers on her womb, he felt a flutter from the child and had to smile. Yes, as Arwen had said only a little while ago, feeling this way was completely worth it for them to have a babe.

A sudden thump outside their front door made him start and woke her. "What was that?" she asked, beginning to sit up. He shook his head.

"Stay here and let me look into the source."

"I feel much better now," she whispered, sliding her feet to the floor as he stood behind her. He caught her hand in his.

"Then please stay behind me," he insisted, holding his dagger already in his hands. He crossed their sitting room into the kitchen and went directly to the front door. Just as he was reaching it, he heard a soft knock. He sheathed the dagger, and opened the door.

Enguina, who had been half-leaning against the door, practically spilled into the House and he dropped to his knees to catch her, calling out her name. As soon as she felt his hands she thrashed and shied away, falling back out into the snow behind her, as though she did not recognize him.

"Enguina!" he said again, taking in her state. He could not reach for her; he saw the terror in her face as she brought up her hands to shield herself. Arwen slipped past him and stepped barefoot onto the porch, immediately drawing Enguina back out of the snow and pulling her into her arms.

"Shh…shh...it is all right, love," she whispered, holding her tight, feeling her shaking against her. Enguina began sobbing outright then, Arwen pressing her against her chest. Aragorn stood and immediately went back inside, lighting a fire and putting the kettle on. He came back with a blanket and went to their side. Arwen, whose head was resting on Enguina's, looked up at him.

"We need to get her out of the snow," he said gently, "and you as well." He slowly reached down and wrapped Enguina in the blanket. "Do you think she can—" Arwen shook her head.

"Enguina, Aragorn is going to take you inside," she whispered. "It is all right…you are safe here. You are with us." Aragorn rested his hand on Enguina's back and went to slip a hand beneath her knees. She reacted so violently and so fast, thrashing against Arwen and scratching out towards him, tearing open the back of his hand with her nails as he could not pull back fast enough. Arwen caught her wrist, clutching Enguina's hand against her chest. "Stop, stop…he is a _friend_. He is not going to hurt you!"

Her breathing was uneven, but she seemed to realize that she needed to trust Arwen at least. Aragorn slowly, carefully, slipped his hand beneath her knees and scooped her out of the snow and into his arms, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. With Arwen at his side, he brought her into the sitting room where the divan was and set her down upon it, leaning her back into Arwen's arms. After doing this, he lit a fire in the hearth again and went to get another blanket, this one for Arwen. He wrapped her with the blanket, and then rested his hand on Enguina's head once before he moved away to check on the tea.

Aragorn had no idea at all what was causing Enguina such pain; she was distraught beyond self-control. Arwen must have known an awful lot about the situation, otherwise, she would not have been as collected as she seemed. He rinsed his sliced hand and then wrapped it, waiting for the tea to boil and steep. It was some time, and it gave Enguina a bit of a chance to collect herself. He filled two mugs for them.

Back near the hearth, Enguina's shaking hands clutched the front of her nightgown and part of the blanket, her face buried in Arwen's neck. "He was there…" she wept around her aching throat. " _He had me there…and it…it hurt…_ " Arwen's eyes flooded with tears.

"Shh…you are safe; you are safe. He cannot reach you here. It was just a dream; it was not real, love. Not real." Aragorn appeared at the door, carrying two mugs, but he paused when he heard Arwen's voice. "It is _my_ hands you feel…not his. He cannot hurt you anymore."

"I want," she gasped, "I want to stop feeling his hands! He says you will not come, he hits me in the face, he touches me, my chest my arms, beneath my dress…" She broke down again, unable to speak for several minutes as Arwen tried to soothe her. "His hands keep _hurting_ me, over and over and then…then that _pain_ —" Arwen jerked, tears falling on her cheeks and then her arms tightened around Enguina's shaking form. " _God, I always feel that pain, like a knife!_ " Arwen's body jerked again, she _felt_ the wound grow within her.

"I came," she whispered. _Too late! Too late!_ Her heart screamed at her. "I cut him, I wounded him…" Her voice was so soft when she whispered, " _I wish I had killed him_."

"Do not," she stuttered out, "do not _say_ that! I do not want his blood on your hands."

Arwen's fingers tightened on her. "I wish I _could_ kill him right now…for what he has done, what he is still doing to you." Enguina tried to wipe her face and sat up, looking into Arwen's dark, wet eyes.

"Please, I cannot bear to hear you speak like that," she whispered, and her throat pained. She wrapped her hands against her throat. It _hurt_ ; Arwen knew she had been crying out during her nightmare.

Aragorn moved into the room then, seeing that Enguina was upright. He came near to them and extended the mug to Enguina. Arwen took it for her and wrapped Enguina's hands around it, too, trying to get her fingers to warm up.

Enguina's eyes were hollow as she lifted them to Aragorn, but at least she _had_ looked at him. "Thank you," she whispered, but her voice was hoarse. Aragorn knew that sound; she had been screaming in her sleep. He bowed his head to her and left the room, returning to the kitchen where he drew down a few more herbs from the cupboards. Grinding them and mixing them with more tea in another mug, he went back to the sitting room.

"Enguina," he said softly, and she carefully took the mug from his hand, "it will help soothe your throat." Tears flooded her eyes again as Arwen stroked her hair; she looked down, clutching the mug between her still trembling hands. He reached out, closing his eyes as his fingers touched her scalp; she jerked back, her head knocking into Arwen's chest.

"Shh," she whispered, stroking Enguina's hair again, "he is not going to hurt you."

"You have nothing to fear from me," he told her softly, and he rested his hand fully against her head. As suddenly as he had touched her, an overwhelming heat flooded her, warming her within minutes from head to toe. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, completely amazed. Her teeth stopped chattering from the cold, and though she still felt sick from the dream, she was comforted by the warmth.

"Ilúvatar," she whispered, though her throat pained, "did _you_ do that?"

"My gift," he said gently. "I am sure you both desire to be alone," he continued, looking at Arwen. "If you need anything I will be just in the other room. And please, drink the tea. It will help. You are more than welcome to spend the night."

Enguina's eyes filled again, tears rolling down her face. Arwen murmured words of comfort to her and drew her close against her chest, holding her tight. Aragorn bowed his head to Enguina once more, leaned forward to kiss the top of Arwen's head, and then turned to leave them alone. He said a quiet prayer for Enguina before he lay back down to try and get some rest. No doubt, Arwen would join him when she had seen Enguina peacefully to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

It was a bright and beautiful morning as Legolas went to acquire Enguina from her house. The snow was melting a bit in the sun even though it was cold outside. Most of the people he had greeted already this morning were wearing cloaks and heavy boots to protect from the wind and snow, but Legolas had on a light tunic and his soft boots. There was no need for him to have any serious protection. He knocked once upon her door and then waited.

And waited. It was the right time and so he could not imagine a reason for her not to appear. He knocked again, even twice more, and waited. She did not answer, and then he grew worried. He would not, though, open the door to her home and check on her. Perhaps she had forgotten and had gone to the King's House for breakfast in spite of their plans? He was to check with Arwen; she, at least, might know where she was.

He hurried to the King's House, unwilling to allow much time to pass if indeed Enguina was…well, in trouble. Climbing the front steps, he noticed that Aragorn had already gone this morning as his boot prints led away from the House. He reached the door and knocked gently; he did not wish to alarm Arwen if she was still resting.

The door opened within a few seconds, and it was definitely Arwen; she did not block the doorway but Legolas only had eyes for her. "Good morning, Arwen," he said.

She rested her head against the doorframe and smiled tiredly at him. "Good morning, Legolas. How are you?"

"You look tired," he asked, startled. "Is everything…" He drifted off as he noticed Enguina sitting at the table, her hand wrapped around a mug of tea. Upon seeing her, he breathed a sigh of relief. "I came here to see if you knew where Enguina was. We were supposed to meet this morning, but I am very relieved to see that she is with you."

Arwen glanced behind her. "Would you care to join us, Legolas? If even for a few moments." She opened the door and stood back to let him enter. He came inside and felt that the atmosphere was heavy. Enguina lifted her head to look at him, but clearly, something was troubling her.

"You are unwell, Enguina?" he asked worriedly, taking a seat at the end of the table near her. Arwen turned to pour him some tea as well.

"Forgive me, Legolas," she said, clearing her throat and taking another sip of her tea. She sounded a bit hoarse to him. "I completely forgot all about our meeting this morning."

He shook his head. "Do not worry about it. If you are ill, we can go any other time. Please, take some rest, if that is what you need."

"No, I am…quite well," she replied, and though Legolas did not want to contradict her, she seemed pale and drawn…as did Arwen.

"Are you both all right?" he asked softly, and he laid a hand over Enguina's arm as he looked between her and Arwen. "Is there nothing I can do?"

Arwen laughed, leaning her hip against the edge of the table. "Can you finish breakfast please? I need to sit down." Legolas stood immediately and took her arm, guiding her to a chair; she sat down heavily and rested her head on the table. "Thank you, Legolas," she said softly, "you are wonderful." She closed her eyes and Enguina frowned as Legolas turned the browning sausages.

"Enguina, are you sure you are well?" he asked softly and she met his eyes.

"I…will be. It was a long night." He read so much in her gaze, it made him want to rush to her side and hold her. He barely restrained himself from doing so, but he somehow managed.

"This is not the first time," he said softly and though her frown deepened, she nodded. "You are haunted, Enguina…is there anything I can do that can bring you comfort?" He glanced down, removing the sausages from the heat and finishing up the eggs. He placed everything on the table and then poured them all water while he waited out Enguina's silence. Arwen made no effort to fill the empty space with words.

Enguina attempted to smile at him as he took his seat again. "Distract me, Legolas. That is the best cure at the moment. Where had you intended to take me this morning? I am sorry that we did not get to go."

"There will be other mornings," he said, and he reached over and laid a hand on Arwen's shoulder, shaking her gently. "Hey there, breakfast is on the table."

She lifted her head and then slowly shook it. "Not for me," she said, hauling herself to her feet. "If it is all the same to the both of you, I am going to lie down."

"Should I send for the Healers?" he asked worriedly and Enguina even reacted enough to stare at her.

"No, no," she laughed, "I know what I am about, Legolas. I have been feeling ill since last evening, but if I do not lie down now I know where this will end." She leaned over, cupping Enguina's cheek in her hand and kissing the top of her head. "Enjoy breakfast, and then enjoy the day. Feel free to stay as long as you like." She rubbed a hand on Legolas's arm and then turned to go.

"Arwen," Enguina said suddenly as she moved out of the room, "shall I cook tonight?"

Arwen smiled at her. "If you so desire."

"It is only that I heard Faramir say when he stopped by this morning that Éowyn was not feeling well either, and…well, I would be willing if you could use a break."

"You are _very_ kind, love," she replied, and then she left the room.

Legolas watched her go and waited until Enguina turned back before he gave her a sly little smile. "See? I knew that _eventually_ you would have to take over!" he laughed aloud and she reached out and smacked him in the arm.

"Perhaps I should just force _you_ to do it instead."

"I would be more than happy to help you."

She sighed. "I really meant it when I said I know next to nothing about cooking."

"I would honestly be more than happy to help you gather some ingredients while we are out today. I also would like to stop by Ecthelion—"

"And tell Aragorn to drop by and check on her? A wise idea."

"Yes," he said with a smile, "though I am sure he already knows, it appears we had the same idea."

"You never did answer my question."

He sighed. "There is a little café four levels down that simply makes the best breads and muffins. Arwen told me she brought you muffins a few mornings ago, but those were not _these_. I promise, you have never put another bread product in your mouth that is more delicious than these muffins. But, perhaps another morning."

"Yes," she said. Then, before she continued, she looked at him steadily. "Legolas, I have to be honest with you." Her eyes filled, but no tears fell as she continued. "I know this is overstepping something, and I should not even bring it up but I…do not want to lead you on. I…I do not know if I can ever be what you are looking for," her voice was soft, but she was serious. "I do not know if I can ever overcome my past, my dreams, I cannot outrun them. I…do not know if I can be…if I can…"

He reached out and laid a hand over hers on the table. "Enguina, please, you do not have to _be_ anything right now. You do not have to explain if you do not want to."

"But I…I need you to know," she said, frowning. "I need you to know because I do not know if I can…if I can fall in love, Legolas." She stuttered over the words, but they were out now. Legolas stared at her; last night had hurt her, whatever haunted her dreams was still with her today. "I may not ever be able to be what you want," she whispered, "and the last thing I want is to hurt you, or…lead you to a place that I dare not ever go."

"Enguina," he said gently, "agree to spend time with me, and then agree to spend more. Let me show you the rest of Minas Tirith. Let us cook dinner together tonight. Let us go to Sunday service tomorrow. We…" he said, squeezing her hand and smiling at her, "do not need a plan for the whole future."

"I do not know if there will _be_ one," she said.

"We have the next two days planned," he said with a laugh, "let us start there." She thought of Aragorn's words last night: _forget the future, and enjoy the company of a good man._

She stared at him a moment. "You do not intend to give up…do you?"

He gave her a smile. "I intend to continue to pursue you…and wait if I must. But I do not toy with you; this is no game, Enguina. I am as sincere in my purpose and intent as I told you yesterday." He took a bite of a sausage and she smiled back at him.

"I guess we should be getting to Ecthelion and then to that wall, hmm?"

"I do have a promise to keep to the dwarf." He nodded at her, laughing. "But first, finish your breakfast and then we will go." She looked back towards her plate, and he could not help but think at the little smile on her face that at some point he was going to win her heart.

* * *

After visiting briefly with Aragorn, who as Legolas had suspected, already had plans to lunch at the King's House, Legolas and Enguina made their way to the wall that Gimli was working on repairing. He held her hand as he led her up the narrow walkway to the area where the dwarves were working. They had not been there a few seconds when Gimli arrived at their sides.

"Pointy-ears finally come to help, eh?"

Legolas laughed at him, and clasped his shoulder. "We were delayed this morning, friend! But I believe you have not yet _formally_ met Enguina," he said, bowing towards her and placing her hand in Gimli's. "Gimli, son of Gloín, Lord of the Glittering Caves, meet the Lady Enguina of Lothlórien."

He bowed low over her hand and then smiled at her. "Greetings, Lady, you're most welcome to the wall my kinsmen and me are working on. We've quite a bit of work to do yet," he said laughing, "but you're more than welcome to hang about."

She laughed softly. "'Hang about?' I thought we were going to help you."

"Well," Gimli hesitated, "I don't think lifting stone is a Lady's job, but let me look around. I'm sure I can find something that you can do." He shot a look at Legolas and hurried away. Legolas laughed.

"I did not expect you to have a desire for heavy labor this morning," Legolas teased. "I would have given Gimli advance notice."

She gave him a sad smile. "Labor tends to keep one's mind occupied," she replied, looking down at the other dwarves. "I need distraction today."

"I understand."

The dwarf came back within another moment. "I've found you a job, my Lady."

"Please, Enguina," she said.

"Enguina," he amended, "you can help spread the mortar compound. Does that sound good?"

She smiled. "Yes." He began taking her over to show her where she would be working, and as they walked she decided that it was time she made conversation with this dwarf. Legolas gave her an encouraging look. "Gimli, Legolas said that you are the Lord of the Glittering Caves. Where are they located?"

"In Rohan, my Lady," he said, "within the White Mountains near Helm's Deep. It's in the most unremarkable place, but when you go into the mountain, the caves shine like the stars."

"It _is_ quite beautiful," admitted Legolas. "He does not exaggerate."

"They are not dark and closed in?" Enguina asked softly, thinking of being in such a dark, frightening place. "I thought a cave was—"

"Not these!" laughed Gimli. "They shimmer and are displayed with beautiful colors. Now, I know you're an elf, but even you'd appreciate these colors! And they're very open with glorious natural light pouring into them in many places."

Enguina smiled. "They are sounding better all the time." She looked around and watched many of the dwarves hard at work; they smiled at her, but they continued to complete their tasks. She was awed by the amount of work they were doing. Again, she found herself humbled by the discovery of how little she knew of the world.

"You know," Gimli said suddenly, turning to her, "I'm sorry we haven't spent time talking before. There used to be too much animosity between our races. I mean, the last time I met an elf I didn't know, I said something awful to him in my language!" He laughed. "Luckily, Haldir didn't know what it meant or he might have cut my head—"

"You knew Haldir as well?" Enguina asked, incredulously, and Legolas looked at her with surprise at the tone of her voice.

"Uh, well…yes," Gimli replied, looking up at her and leaning on the wall. "We knew each other a bit. We didn't become _great_ friends, but we got along all right, and we fought together at Helm's Deep." He noticed something in her face. "You—"

"He was my brother," she said softly.

He clapped his hands and took hers and kissed them both. "Any family of that elf's is a friend of mine!" he laughed, even in her surprise. "Though, I already hoped we would be good friends, as you're a friend of that one over there," he said, nodding towards Legolas.

"I should have noticed the resemblance," Legolas murmured, shocked. "Forgive me, Enguina; I knew Haldir as well. He came often to Mirkwood and he and I would hunt in the woods together." He shook his head. "I cannot believe he never spoke of you. He was always so secretive!"

"Yes," she said, sighing, "he kept me hidden. You know, the shameful sister no one likes to speak about."

Gimli laughed. "That sounds like him! No, I'm just teasing! But he never offered more information than what you asked."

"That was certainly Haldir," she replied.

"Ah, he was a good man," Gimli said, sighing. "I'm sorry about his death there on the wall, but Aragorn gave him a good and proper memorial at Helm's Deep where they laid him to rest along with his guard. Even sang a song in his honor."

"He did?"

"The lad's a good man," he said, "and he and Haldir were like brothers on the wall that night." He leaned against the wall and looked at her. "We were hewing a lot of Uruk-necks that night—"

"Gimli," chided Legolas, rolling his eyes, "I am sure she does not need all the details."

"Aragorn said Haldir fought bravely. He did not say both of you were there as well." She looked between Legolas and Gimli. "You, all three of you, fought beside him?"

"Yes," Gimli said, "there were over ten thousand Uruks there that night and we, with the help of the Rohirrim, the guard of Lórien, and the Hurons, slaughtered every last one."

"Yes," Legolas agreed, "Haldir's bow killed many."

"Thank you," she said to them both. "I am glad he will be remembered well."

"That he will, lass; that he will," Gimli said. "Now, can I show you what you'll be working on here?"

"Of course," she said, and watched as Legolas grinned at her. She cocked her head. "What?"

"Stop distracting her, elf!" Gimli said, shooing him away. "Go over there and get your own work done! You can blabber on later!"

"All right, Gimli! Calm down!" he laughed, and he turned away to the hard-working dwarves. He glanced back though and watched her for a moment as he walked and Gimli talked, and she looked up to meet his gaze and gave him a little smile. He could not help but smile back…and caught his toe on a block of stone, tripping and nearly falling flat on his face.

Catching himself on the edge of the wall, he glanced back to catch her laughing at him. Laughing with her at himself, he blushed and shook his head. This woman…she was going to be the death of him yet! He would probably never hear the end of it if Gimli had seen him trip. As he turned back to the other dwarves, a few of them were laughing at him. No, there was no way out of it; Gimli would certainly hear about it by the end of the day. He was doomed.

* * *

"Hello, love," Arwen heard, and felt Aragorn's familiar weight on the bed beside her. She stretched, spreading her arms above her head as he leaned an arm over her and pressed against her side. She turned her head towards him, laying a hand alongside his face, leaving her other arm stretched above her head.

"Can I always wake up like this," she asked softly, "with you beside me?" He chuckled, rubbing his thumb along her ribs. "What time is it?"

"How do you feel?" he asked and she raised one eyebrow at him.

"Answer my question first."

"Mm-mm," he disagreed, leaning down close enough to her to brush his nose and lips against hers. "Mine first." She gave in.

"Very good just now," she whispered low and brought up her hand behind his neck to hold his mouth to hers. She curled her fingers into his hair and scratched her nails tenderly across the back of his neck.

"It is about one in the afternoon," he mumbled into her mouth as she kissed him again. She felt his hand leave her ribs as he reached up above her head, dragging his fingers along the sensitive underside of her arm until he met her body, and then rested it against her throat.

" _Please_ do that again," she whispered, and he smiled against her mouth, lifting his hand to stroke her arm. He watched her eyes close. "Lunch… _perfect timing_." She moved her hand down his neck and began undoing his tunic.

"You know…" he teased, "I did not actually come here to—"

"I am…" she hesitated as she thought about what she wanted to say, but he could feel the heat from her body even though she had not finished. "You know how they say pregnant women have strange desires at strange moments of the day?" She said, running her hands down and then back up his arm as he kept his face very close to hers.

"Yes, I had heard that rumor," he replied with a chuckle.

"I think I am having one of those strange desires just now," she whispered.

"Oh yes? And what is your desire for, my love."

"You," she replied. "I have a strong desire for _you_ …right now," she whispered, and she met his eyes as she gave him a little grin. "And look? You happen to be right here. So _convenient_."

"I suppose the fact that I brought food for you matters very little."

" _Very little_ ," she murmured into his mouth, sliding her hand inside his now open tunic and around his back. He leaned down into her and wrapped his own hand around the back of her neck. She paused a moment, and met his eyes. "You do not seem very—"

"Oh, I am," he whispered back, raising his eyebrows. "You have been ill the last several days, Arwen. I wanted to be sure that you were feeling well before I made any sudden moves."

"Perfect," she said, her voice lowering as he pressed a kiss to the center of her chest, his eyes still on hers. "There are some days, when you touch me, that it feels as though my whole world is centered right here…with you, and I can forget the world, our responsibilities, that nothing else matters except you, and our love."

He kissed against her chest again, and the hand that had been on her arm stroked down the side of her body to her womb. "Everything else can wait but you," he said softly and she smiled. "I am the King…I can do whatever I want."

"They do not expect you to return?" she whispered, dragging her figures lazily through his hair, feeling his lips pressed against her skin.

"Does it matter?" he muttered. "I am here, and I am yours for the rest of the afternoon."

"Mmm…we can take our time then," she whispered, gently scratching the back of his neck again.

"I _love_ to take my time with you," he whispered, his eyes closing, enjoying her touch.

"Legolas and Enguina are cooking tonight," she added softly, "so perhaps we cannot take _too_ much time."

He smiled, lifting his head to look into her disappointed face, as he leaned onto his elbows, his hands resting on her ribs. "I know…they are not cooking here tonight. We are eating tonight at Faramir and Éowyn's house…so we have _unlimited_ amounts of time."

"You… _planned_ …" She was surprised; she made no attempt to hide it.

He gave her that smile, the one that made her heart somersault in joy, the one that was only ever for her. "When Legolas came to me this morning, I told him to speak to Éowyn. The days have been too long, Arwen, and I…we have not had much time for each other." He bent his head down to kiss her chest again. "And I love you…and there are times when I wish to use more than words."

"Even an entire afternoon of loving you will never be enough," she whispered in return.

* * *

"This is the best stew I've ever tasted!" roared Gimli, and everyone laughed at the table. "Whose fabulous hands made this? I've got to know!"

"Enguina was the one who put it together," Aragorn pointed out.

"It is _excellent_ ," said Éowyn, putting some more in her mouth.

"I had help," a blushing Enguina admitted, but Legolas shook his head in denial.

"No, no, I simply provided the ingredients! Enguina put them into the pot and—"

"I was not referring to _that_ sort ofhelp," laughed Enguina as she rolled her eyes and most of the rest of the table laughed as well. "I was referring to Annî, who actually _did_ help me!" Legolas, amused, raised his eyebrows at her, as she continued, "Annî was the perfect helper." The little girl at the end of the table grinned hugely.

"That was not very nice to say I did not help at all," Legolas said, leaning towards her.

"Not really," she replied flippantly. "Annî was a much greater help."

Arwen leaned her elbows on the table and smiled. "For someone who has cooked only a few times, you did very well."

"Yes, she did," added Legolas, laughing. "She kept telling me all day that she could not handle it, but she did just fine, even though she will not thank me for my help."

Enguina blushed darker. " _Please_ stop talking about the stew."

"It's delicious!" roared Gimli again.

Annî screamed, waving her fork around in the air. "Watch out!" called Faramir, as a potato flung off the end onto the table. Gimli laughed, plucking it up between his fingers and, shoving it into his mouth, made a silly face at Annî before turning toward Enguina.

"See? Delicious! My compliments to the cook!"

"Annî," cried Éowyn, startled by her daughter's action, "do not let me see you do that again!"

Enguina rolled her eyes. "Oh, you are all much too gracious! The broth is not very thick and the meat is a bit chewy and the _potatoes_ , do not even make me go there—"

"We are all enjoying it," Aragorn said, watching her. "Do not be so critical, and let us give praise where it is due, please."

She sighed. "All right. I will simply leave it, but—"

"No," laughed Legolas, "just leave it." She opened her mouth, and then shut it again with a smile before popping another spoonful of stew into her mouth. He was right, of course; she was only going to complain again. Legolas turned away from her and looked down the table towards Arwen. "How are you feeling, Arwen? I know you were ill this morning."

She nodded. "I _am_ better, and I thank you for encouraging Aragorn to come with lunch. It made my day…" she said, looking over at Aragorn, "so much better." He chuckled and covered her hand with his. The look that she gave him was enough to make Enguina's face heat up.

"To be fair to him," she murmured, "he was already coming to you." She turned, trying to shake the feeling that she had just interrupted a private moment, and looked to Éowyn. "And I know you are feeling better, as we have been in your home all afternoon."

"It was wonderful to have you hear," Éowyn said, smiling, "and Annî was delighted as well."

"Faramir was complaining he had to amuse Annî all by himself this morning," Arwen added, raising her brow at Faramir. He gaped at her.

"You were not supposed to _tell_ her that, Arwen."

"Forgive me…my mind was not all there this morning."

"Mmm," he snorted. "Traitor."

Éowyn smiled again, cutting up some more potatoes for Annî. "Faramir, darling, should you tell them, or should I?"

He leaned over in front of Annî and took Éowyn's chin in his hand, drawing her in for a quick kiss as Enguina laughed at their open display of affection. "Let me, please?"

"Tell us what?" asked Gimli, miffed they were still fooling around and had information they were not sharing. " _What_?"

"News?" asked Arwen.

"Have you heard from Éomer?" guessed Aragorn.

"Well, yes," laughed Éowyn, "but that is not what we wished to tell you."

"What is it?" asked Legolas.

" _Shh_!" cried Faramir with a laugh. "You are all worse than me when I used to ask Boromir a hundred and fifty questions when we were children! Give me a chance to share, please!" He paused a moment in the silence and then grinned to himself. "Éowyn is with child."

"What!?"

"What?"

"When?!"

"How wonderful!"

There were so many choruses, and no one could stay in their seats as they rose to hug and congratulate the happy couple. Finally, after the spilling of a cup by Eru-only-knew, and Annî flinging a carrot across the room, Aragorn poured ale all around for the bunch of them who could actually have a drink. He held up his glass.

"A toast!" he called out, "to Éowyn and Faramir's happy—"

"And _fruitful!_ " hollered Gimli.

"—marriage," continued Aragorn, "and may their child be as blessed as they have been. May Ilúvatar guide his steps and take care of Éowyn as she bears the babe for the next few months."

"Hear, hear!" called Legolas, and they all drank to their health.

"Oh Éowyn," said Enguina, looking at her, "when is the child due to be born?"

"We are fairly sure it will be sometime in May," she replied with a grin. "Annî is going to have a little brother or sister. We are so excited!"

"That means," said Faramir, punching Aragorn lightly in the shoulder, "we shall have young ones _together_!"

"Two more little ones running about the place," laughed Gimli, raising his mug again. He winked over at Legolas. "We could use a few more around here!" He took a swig and Legolas made sure Enguina was not looking before he shot him a terribly filthy look. Gimli just smirked at him.

"This is wonderful," Enguina said with a sigh, looking at their happy family. "Another child to love."

"Well," Éowyn laughed, "since Faramir seems to think we are having—"

"Twenty," Faramir said, "definitely twenty!"

"—I suppose that means I have to have one a year for the rest of my life in order to have that many children."

Enguina stared at Faramir. " _Twenty?_ Whatever will you do with so many children?"

"Love them," he laughed.

"He is not serious," interrupted Arwen, rolling her eyes. "Éowyn is not going to have twenty children."

"Whyever not?" laughed Éowyn. "It would be difficult, without a doubt, but I am willing." Faramir leaned over and kissed her again, and Legolas turned to Enguina while the others began talking about all of the excitement.

"I have a question to ask you that I have been meaning to ask all day."

"All day? And you have not asked it yet?" she teased him.

"I…continue to be distracted."

"Mmm," she muttered dryly at his smile, "well, then ask away I suppose."

"Will you be coming to service with us tomorrow?"

"Well, that depends."

He tilted his head, his eyes getting a bit wider in confusion. "On what?"

"How early I must rise."

He laughed out loud. "You amuse me so, Guin!" She blinked…and he immediately realized what had come out of his mouth and blushed profusely. "Enguina, forgive me, I—"

"No," she said, and even though she blushed even more than him, she continued shyly, "I really like it."

Embarrassed, he seemed a bit apprehensive, but asked anyway, "You do?"

"Yes," she said, beginning to eat her stew again. "Say it again."

"Guin," he asked, and the way he _said_ it nearly made her shiver with pleasure, "you are most assuredly coming to service with us tomorrow, then?" It must have been the way his voice dipped when he spoke the word or it might have been the pleasure in _his_ eyes as he said the nickname aloud. But something about it made her _feel_. She wanted him to keep saying it, but she did not know how she could ask without sounding ridiculously foolish. No one had ever…she had never felt that way about someone calling her anything.

"I would love to, Legolas," she agreed.

"And perhaps afterwards, an outing in the snow?"

"If there is any snow left!" she laughed.

"Ah, Guin, never fear, I will find us some snow," he told her with a bit of a glimmer in his eye. She looked at him with a gentle smile.

"If ever I believed someone's word, Legolas, it would be yours."

* * *

Even though it was December, Aragorn could still smell the scent of the fading roses. It filled the dark night, and even though all remained still covered with snow it was also beautiful. He sat among the last hanging blossoms of the White Tree, his eyes fixed and captivated by the beauty of his wife in the moonlight. It shone down upon her, bathing her form in a soft, white glow. Her face was tilted away from him and her beautiful eyes were closed. A smile was upon her face and one hand rested on her womb, almost as if she were touching the small life within her.

"Undómiel! Undómiel!" he said softly, just as he had called her in the days when he had first seen her, for she appeared once again with the beauty of Tinúviel. He felt his breath leave him as he took her hands gently within his own and kissed them gently. She smiled at the feeling of his kiss on her hands and she lifted one hand from his and ran it gently through his hair. She thought back to their love-making earlier that afternoon, the way his hands touched her so gently, the way his eyes were as full of love as they were now. She was glad they had come for this walk tonight; it was so peaceful.

"You are the most beautiful creature in this world, Arwen," he whispered. "When I looked upon you just now, I saw the glory of the moon and the stars and the sun shine forth from you as if they were part of you. Love radiates from your every feature, making you the glad mother that you are. You, beloved, are the greatest of Eru's treasures to me."

"Heaven smiles on us both, Aragorn, and may He forever," she whispered to him. "Your words embrace my heart," she replied, smiling as she played with his hair again and then ran a hand along his cheek. "I love you."

"You appear to be feeling much better," he teased her, pressing his lips to hers.

"I wonder who is responsible for my feeling better?" she queried. "Someone came to me at lunch and provided tender care."

"Will you walk with me?" he asked softly. "There is something I would like you to see if you are up to it."

"I would love to take a walk with you," she said as he tugged her to her feet.

She took his arm, and together they walked out of the garden and through the streets of Minas Tirith. They came near the wall that had been built and they spoke of its beauty and what Legolas' kin would do to make it even more so. Finally, they reached a small barn near a mason's workshop. The door was open, for the man did not worry that his heavy stone would be stolen. Aragorn led Arwen inside; though she had seen the old mason within numerous times, she had never met him, nor did she did not understand why Aragorn would bring her to such a place.

"Good evening, my Lord," said an older man who was seated at a worktable carving a small wooden pole. He rose when he saw Arwen. "My Lord, you did not tell me you would bring the Lady with you this evening!" He bowed to her and she smiled. "My Lady!"

"It is all right, friend," Aragorn said softly, and smiled at him as he turned to Arwen. "Arwen, this is Cirgon, the master stonemason of our city."

"You are too kind, my Lord," the old man said with a smile. "Welcome to my humble workshop, my Queen. I daresay the King has brought you to see what I have been working on? I will let _him_ take you to see it." He turned to Aragorn. "It is magnificent…and I do not mean to praise my work, but I sincerely pray that the drawing you gave me was exact. You must let me know if anything must be changed…"

"Of course. Do not worry; knowing you, it is exact."

As Aragorn picked up a lantern and began to light it, Cirgon bowed again and flushed with pleasure. "The King is too kind."

"I give credit where it is due, Cirgon," he replied. As he was finishing with the lantern, Arwen studied the skill of the carvings in his shop.

"The craftsmanship on these is superb…" she gasped, touching the face of a carved horse. "Do you work them all yourself, Cirgon?"

"Yes, my Lady…well, most of them. My boy has done a few, but he likes his work as a blacksmith more. Perhaps I will teach someone else my craft one day, and they shall take my shop and continue my work."

"You are excellent at what you do," she said, somewhat awed. "The artistry is exquisite. These are almost alive!"

"Thank you, my Lady," Cirgon replied, blushing. "You are most kind."

"Do you wood-work as well?"

"My son does more of that than me," he stated, "but while you are outside, you might see a few pieces that I have worked on, too. Let me know what you think of them, then!"

Aragorn took her arm. "Come, Arwen. We will return in a few moments, Cirgon."

"Take your time, my Lord." Aragorn led Arwen out the back of the barn to another much larger stone building. He held up the lantern as he went inside, for it was not well lit.

"The building you were in is Cirgon's shop, but this is actually where he works. Everything you saw in his shop is made here and then moved out into the other building." As Aragorn led her, Arwen stared in awe at the many wonders that Cirgon was making. "He is an excellent carver and stone mason, and I could not be more pleased with what he has done for me." He drew her to the front of a tall, sheet-covered stone, and Aragorn turned to her.

"Cirgon told me today that it was nearly finished. It has been a project of his for some time by my asking, and I have wanted to show it to you many-a-night." He extended her the lantern and she took it, intrigued by his words of what this statue could be.

Slowly, he pulled away the cover, revealing a tall figure with a noble face, carved completely from stone. Arwen gasped at the likeness and reached out to touch the cheek. Aragorn stared as well, for the mason had done such an expert job that the statue stood in every way an exact likeness to Haldir of Lothlórien. The face and the eyes were exactly right, the height perfect, and the Elvish armor intricately detailed.

"Oh, Ilúvatar…" she gasped, "it is as though Haldir himself were here in front of me. Oh Aragorn, he is…" tears came to her eyes and she blinked them away, "I do not believe I could find words to describe him. It _is_ Haldir…exactly as I remember him, as _you_ remembered him that night."

"He is to be a tribute," said Aragorn softly. "He will be placed on the wall in honor of those that fought and lost their lives at the Battle of Helm's Deep." He tore his eyes from Haldir's and turned to look at her. "I thought it would honor his sacrifice and all of those who defended the lives of the innocent in the deep. When he is complete, I shall have a ceremony in the courtyard to memorialize them. Thursday morning, as a matter of timing, with a celebration to follow in the evening. There, we shall remember those lives that were lost and those still with us. There are a few others that will join Haldir's on the wall," he said softly, "but this is the one that matters the most to me…especially knowing that he was Enguina's brother."

She looked at him, stunned. "How long have you been planning this with Cirgon that I have not known?" She gave a soft laugh. "You do _so_ surprise me, Aragorn."

"For a year at least Cirgon has been working upon it," he replied. "He needed all that time to do it aside from his own business."

Arwen reached out and touched Haldir's face again. "How did he know…" she hesitated as she remembered what the mason had said before. "Did you give Cirgon a drawing of Haldir? Of each one of them?" She asked him and he gave her a humble smile.

"Yes…I sketched them from memory and gave the parchment to Cirgon; from that, he was able to carve them into stone."

"That is amazing, Aragorn. And he is…" she shook her head, " _so real_. It is honestly as though he is standing before me." She reached up and touched his face. "You are so talented. It has been so long since you sketched that I was not sure you even remembered how to do it."

He smiled at her. "I was going to sketch you before we left the House this afternoon, but…there was not time. _And_ sketching you not particularly clothed…well, I would not want something like that lying about."

"Yes," she said raising her eyebrows and giving him a wry smile, "you did not have any opportunity to sketch me without clothes in Lothlórien…for propriety's sake."

"Someday soon," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her from behind and covering her womb with his hand. "I want to be able to look back someday at a drawing of you and remember exactly what your every feature looked like when you were with child." She blushed and kissed him gently. "You know…" he began.

"Hmm?" she said softly, turning her head to look into his eyes.

"Why did you never mention that Enguina was Haldir's sister? I knew Haldir quite well, and Erumar and I were good friends, yet you never mentioned her…not even in Lothlórien when I courted you."

Arwen frowned, thoughtful. "I suppose it simply never came up; you and I always found something else to speak of." She laughed softly. "I never spoke of Legolas to her either, or her to Legolas, and we all knew each other well and were good friends. But Haldir…he was an angel whom we all knew that we loved well. It will be wonderful to have this ceremony to honor him when she is with us."

Aragorn nodded, but then asked softly. "Do you think she would be too embarrassed to accept a gift from me in front of the City? Since I know she is Haldir's sister, I was thinking to give her his sword in memory of him, for though it is still kept in honor in our chambers it is only collecting dust."

Arwen looked at Haldir for a moment and then turned back to Aragorn. "She _will_ be embarrassed," she admitted, "but she will be honored that you sought to include her and touched by the ceremony…that you loved him so much to do something like that for him." She stroked his face. "She will come to adore you, as all do when they come to know you."

He shook his head. "Not everyone adores me, Arwen," he said simply. "I can give you a list of individuals who would like me very dead indeed."

"Oh stop," she whispered, "I refuse to speak of _them_." She took his arm once again. "Come, let us cover Haldir once more and return to Cirgon's shop; would it be all right if I ask him to make something for the baby?"

He smiled at her. "I am certain he would be honored."

" _And_ it is also late, and it will take some time to walk back to the House." She gave a soft sigh and laughed at herself. "I am only five months pregnant and my feet are already weary. I feel lazy." Aragorn gave her a tender smile.

"It will be six months on Tuesday," he said honestly, "and your body is different since the pregnancy. If you grow tired, I shall carry you in my arms. For what are the arms of a king but to bear his loved one to peaceful rest?"

"You are far too good to me." He leaned over and gently kissed her once more.

"No, I wish to do anything that will make your life easier and more comfortable."

She stood on her tiptoes as Aragorn covered Haldir and whispered in his ear, "Come visit me for lunch more often…that would definitely make me more comfortable."

He chuckled as he turned and she slipped her arm through his as they began to walk back out to Cirgon's shop, closing up the barn for the evening.

Hidden within the shadow of the wall near Ecthelion, Belegore stood very still, his eyes on the King's House now. He had been watching Legolas walk Enguina home earlier, accompanied by the dwarf. They certainly seemed to be getting along much more easily than the first day that he had seen them together. Calendur had spoken with him only days before and asked him to keep a sharp eye out for them. He was not surprised when he found them growing closer; the Lady Enguina was a beautiful woman, and the Prince was well-known about the Citadel. There was no doubt that she would be falling head-over-heels for him. She seemed nice; kidnapping her would be a _breeze_ and then they would draw away the protection around the Queen and—

As he turned, smiling at his own thoughts, his eyes fell upon the King and Queen passing by. Quickly, he bowed his head, his palms instantly beginning to sweat. It was said the King could read hearts…would he know what Belegore had been thinking, planning?

"Good evening," the King said softly to him as the two of them came upon him slowly. Belegore glanced up at them and caught Arwen watching him with a smile.

"It is a lovely evening for a walk, is it not, my Lord?" asked the Queen, and it surprised Belegore how gentle she sounded. He had never seen her this close before, and had never spoken with her. Being this close, he could see the child she was bearing beginning to show.

"Indeed, my Lady," he said, bowing forward. "I hope you are taking advantage of it."

"We have been, I assure you," said the King, turning back to him with a smile. "I do not believe I have met you before, son. What is your name? What is it that you do?" the King asked. Belegore hesitated.

"I am a blacksmith, like my father."

The King studied him a moment. "Is your grandfather Cirgon, the mason?"

Belegore looked surprised. "Indeed, he is. Do you know him, my Lord?"

"We were only just with him," replied Arwen with a smile.

"He is working on something for me for the coming week," the King said with a twinkle in his eye, and that twinkle surprised Belegore. "He is a good man, and the best stonemason Gondor has to offer…perhaps even Middle-Earth."

"Indeed," Belegore said, a flash of pride showing in him. "I would have to agree, my Lord; my grandfather _is_ the best."

"Do you carve as well?" the King asked.

"A little, but I more so enjoy shoeing horses. We do not have as many as Rohan, but it is still a decent living when you are good at it and good with the horses."

"I take it you like to be around horses, then." The younger man nodded, and the King gave him a smile. "We have need of a new hand in the stables as one of the older hands passed on. Would you be interested in such a position?"

Belegore smiled. "I…I would be honored, my Lord. I have seen your horses; they are incredible."

The King laughed kindly, laying a hand on the young man's shoulder. "They are not mine save one, but I am sure with an attitude like that they would enjoy having you about very much. You seem like a hardy lad and would be well suited for such duties. If you are interested, the job is yours."

"My Lord, I thank you for your faith in me," Belegore said softly, thinking of the warmth of the hand on his shoulder and seeing the soft smile on the lips of the Queen.

"Go down to the stable tomorrow for nine in the morning and I shall make certain Ceorl, the master hand, is there to show you about. You may decide then if you would like to do such work, but I can tell you that the horses would greatly appreciate one with a sense for them."

"Thank you, my Lord," Belegore replied, and the King only smiled. Before he turned to go, the King caught his arm gently.

"You did not give me your name, lad."

"Belegore," he replied without hesitation. The King smiled.

"I shall see you some morning at the stables then, Belegore. Good evening. I pray you will enjoy your new duties."

"Good evening, my Lord, my Lady." He bowed to them and watched as the Queen took the King's offered arm and they moved away towards the King's House.

Belegore turned and began walking towards the sixth level, thinking of this chance encounter with the King. He had been kind enough to offer him an important position—and he did not even _know_ him! The moment he was out of the Citadel and down through the gate towards the fifth level, a hooded figure stole out of the shadows. So lost in his thoughts, Belegore was startled before he realized it was Calendur.

He shook his head. "Forgive me; I did not realize it was you."

"Have you been watching the elves?"

"Yes," he said softly, following him back into the shadows. "They are definitely growing close. He is taken with her, and she is attracted to him. I saw them walking together just tonight."

"Excellent," Calendur said. "They were riding together just yesterday, Ahadil said. Keep your eyes open for anything useful; we will need to know of a good time to complete the snatching. My brother wants events in motion before January if possible."

Belegore winced. "That only gives us three weeks."

"We will have to step up the pace." He began to turn, and then Belegore remembered his new duties from the King.

"Calendur," he said, "I have some other good news. The King has given me a position in the stables." Calendur turned back to him, his eyes excited.

"Belegore…this _is_ excellent news," he said with a laugh. "Indeed, better than I had hoped! It will be much easier to keep watch on the she-elf this way for they ride _often_. And you must find out from that wretched old mason what he is doing for the King; it may help with our plans. I leave you to make such discoveries alone. I will meet you in the usual. Stay on your guard."

"Of course," Belegore replied softly, and the elf disappeared, leaving him in the shadows alone.


	11. Chapter 11

It was early afternoon when Enguina found herself leaving the temple at Legolas's side. They had spent most of the morning there, and it had been an experience she would not soon forget. Legolas had been correct; the singing alone had been so uplifting to her spirit. On top of this, it was another snowy day and there had been no dark dreams to disturb her sleep last night. She wanted nothing more, or less, than to spend the day enjoying herself in the company of Legolas.

Her heart was so light this morning that Legolas could even hear her humming as they walked. He said nothing to her, but he delighted in the sound of her voice in song. He did not know what she hummed, but it was lovely enough to distract him from even breathing too loud so that he could not hear it. As he walked at her side, just the two of them, he heard her sing a few words very, very softly.

 _Shout to the North and the South of the One!_

 _Sing of his glorious power and love!_

 _Grant him all honor and worship and praise_

 _And sing, yes, sing to the Ancient of Days!_

He was utterly captivated by the sound of her voice, and she suddenly seemed to notice him staring at her because her words and notes stopped just as suddenly. He blinked, noticing her looking down and blushing.

"Oh, forgive me," he said, "I did not mean to make you stop."

"You were staring!" she laughed, embarrassed. "I told myself I would not sing."

"What?" he said, suddenly laughing with her. "Whyever not? Why would you deny anyone the pleasure of hearing it? You have a beautiful voice! All of _Gondor_ should hear it!"

"Certainly not!" she cried, adamantly shaking her head. He stared at her another moment and then tilted his head.

"I was captivated by your song," he said honestly. "I did not mean to startle you or cause you to feel ill at ease. Please, continue."

She laughed. "I am afraid I cannot! The moment has passed by."

"Damn," he muttered softly, and she burst out laughing.

"You are _sorely_ disappointed!" She was quite astonished.

"I am," he chuckled. "I cannot help it."

Enguina grinned at him. "I am certain there will be more time for songs," she said, and he gave her a sigh. "My heart was light in that moment from the service; seldom have I felt like singing." She turned back behind them. "Are we alone already? Where are the others?"

"Aragorn and Arwen are always with the people on Sundays after service," Legolas replied. "It is their gift of time to them, a meet and greet, if you will."

"It seems that they devote an unreasonable amount of time to pleasing everyone else," she said softly, and Legolas nodded.

"Perhaps, but they are good rulers."

"Oh, no one could say different," agreed Enguina, "I just often wonder where they find time for anything else."

Legolas smiled, but continued about their friends. "I did not see Faramir and Éowyn at service this morning; I wonder if Éowyn is ill again. And Gimli, well, he always stays for the food, of course."

"Oh," she said, giving him an exaggerated look, "of _course_ , being a dwarf and all."

"I thought you had ceased being judgmental," he teased her.

"That was not judgmental," she reminded him. " _That_ was simply saying out loud what _you_ implied. And besides, Gimli would have laughed."

Legolas grinned. "He probably would have."

They were just walking near the stables on the sixth level just before the entrance to the seventh when they caught sight of a tiny red-headed figure darting passed them. Enguina reached out in a panic, unsure where the little girl was headed and scooped her off her feet. As Annî was laughing, Enguina could not stay worried for long.

"Where do you think you are going?" boomed Legolas as Annî screamed with laughter. Whatever she called them sounded like 'Leg' and 'Goo' and it only made Enguina laugh harder.

"Daddy!" Annî shouted, waving her hand towards the stable, and Enguina looked up to see an exasperated Faramir jogging toward them.

"Annî! Thank Heaven for you two!" Faramir cried and, growling, made his way over. "Annî, do not _ever_ run out of Daddy's sight again."

"We missed you at service this morning," Legolas said. "Where have you been?"

Faramir sighed. "I was trying to give Éowyn a moment or two; you know, let her take a nap. She was feeling a bit ill. I wanted to stay with her, but Annî was not playing very quietly; she has been a bit of a wild-child this morning." He looked guilty. "So I took her outside to sort of wear her out, but she wanted to go visit the horses and I did not want to go too far from Éowyn…just in case she needed me." He leaned towards Legolas. "Do not tell her I said that."

"Oh, Faramir…" Enguina said softly, and she swung Annî back and forth, thinking. "Wait!" she suddenly said, and both men looked at her. "I have a most excellent idea. _You_ go back to Éowyn, and Legolas and I will watch Annî for the afternoon."

"What?" asked Legolas, his eyebrows in the air.

"Really?" asked Faramir, wincing. "Are you sure?"

"Positively certain," she replied with a grin. "We will bring her in a few hours?"

"Éowyn would _love_ you," he said sincerely, "and so would I."

"Go," she said.

"You may never want to do this again, but…" Faramir began, but he reached forward and clasped both of their arms, " _thank you_!" He leaned over and kissed Andúnêiel on the forehead. "Daddy will see you in a little while, all right? Stay with Legolas and Enguina and be _good_ , sweet pea."

Annî waved at him. "Bye, Daddy!" She turned in Enguina's arms, wrapped an arm around her neck, and stuck a thumb in her mouth. Enguina watched Faramir disappear and then turned to find Legolas looking at her.

"Have you ever cared for a child in your life?" he asked.

She grinned at him. "Have _you_?"

"I can be honest and say…no."

"Me neither," she laughed. "I saw my brother's and I played with them, but I never actually cared for them. Truly, Legolas, if we think logically, how hard can it be? All we have to do is keep her happy and entertained."

He held up his hands. "All right…you are the captain. Tell me what to do, fearless leader."

Enguina leaned her head back so she could look at Annî's face. "Annî, how do you feel about a horseback ride with Legolas?" Annî nodded, her thumb still in her mouth. "And maybe we will stop and play in the snow…"

Enguina continued like this as she walked into the stable, Legolas close on her heels.

* * *

Several hours later, Enguina half-lay in the hay that sat against the wall of the barn aisle, Annî sound asleep against her chest. Enguina had her head back in the hay as well and Legolas leaned against the wall beside her, smiling, as horse heads protruded from the stalls all around them. It had been, to say the least, an exhausting afternoon.

Taking Annî for a horseback ride had been great fun and the little girl had loved every moment, pointing out things and shouting gibberish at the men and women of Gondor. They had never heard her talk so much at one time! They stayed on horseback near the Gate, and then dismounted to allow Annî time to play in the snow. Every one of them ended up soaked; Enguina taught Annî how to build snowmen and animals and how to make Valar with her arms and legs, while Legolas built her a _huge_ fortress out of snow that she could climb through and run around in. After a snowball fight and a ridiculously _hilarious_ time of burying Legolas beneath a snow mound, they came back into the City and positively collapsed in the barn.

Legolas could not take his eyes off what he thought was a very precious moment; Annî's head was lying against Enguina's breast, Enguina's arms around her, holding her close. Enguina's hair was pulled back and tied up and soaking wet…but it did not matter. She looked so beautiful…so like a mother in that moment, that Legolas could think of nothing else but what she would look like holding a little _blonde-haired_ babe. _His_ babe… _their_ baby…a baby that was his and hers.

 _Get a hold on yourself, boy_. Legolas blinked, but he could still see her in his mind, running along chasing after their child, a little elf with pointed ears; running through the woods of Ithilien, where he planned to settle. He could see himself at her side, holding her close, kissing her, _loving_ her…how he wished he could tell her what he was feeling! Instead, she looked up and caught his eye, beckoning him with her head. He smiled and sat down alongside her, partially in the haystack himself.

"How in heaven's name do women become mothers?" she asked softly, her eyes half-closed. "I am _exhausted_."

"I think you did a very good job of it," he teased. "She loved your every idea, and played for hours with us out in the snow."

"You were so good with her today," she replied, but then she grinned. "And _you_ were so worried!"

"I was worried that we would not get to spend any time together," he said honestly, but with a laugh. "But I am very glad that you volunteered us." The last he said sincerely, thinking about her becoming the mother of his children. Perhaps it was too soon to be thinking it, but he could not help himself. He was desperately in love…he could not deny it now, not even as he watched her breathe, the way she tilted her head and lifted her chin, displaying her slender neck, her hair falling back around her perfect ears, the way her eyes glittered as she looked at him, green, shining…

She had a smile on her face and he suddenly realized that she had probably said something he had not been listening to; he was so captivated by her, he could barely hide it. Enguina laughed at him, and he laughed too, his face reddening a bit.

"Forgive me," he apologized. "I have no idea what you said."

"I noticed," she teased. "I was going to ask you what you were thinking, but I am uncertain if I want to know."

"Probably not something you desire to hear right at the moment," he admitted. "But perhaps I will tell you at some point. If you ask."

She looked at him, and then suddenly smiled. "I was saying that there are not many men who would voluntarily watch a young child."

"No," he said with a smile, "I suppose not. But we did not know what we were getting into, either."

" _Now_ what do we do?" she asked. "Do we stay here until she wakes? Do we take her back to Faramir asleep?"

"Perhaps we should cover her," he suggested. "Though we are elves, she is probably cold and wet." Legolas reached out and pulled over one of Brethil's saddle blankets. "Here," he said gently wrapping it around her and over Enguina's chest and stomach where the little girl was, "this will probably help."

She smiled at him, and he could not resist tucking the loose ends back behind her ear that had come out of her tied-back hair. Her eyes were locked on his face as he did so, but he was not looking at her, so fixed was he on what he was doing. When he was finished, he withdrew his hand, but then he met her eyes.

"Guin…" he said softly, and she smiled at his use of the nickname he had created for her, "you…are so beautiful."

She blushed, initially unsure how to respond, still recovering from the brush of his fingers against her ear. Instead, she rebuffed the compliment by making light of it. "My hair looks as though a rat made a nest in it for its seven children."

It was his turn to blush, as he had expected her to come out with something that was more akin to appreciation of his compliment. But in response, he shook his head, smiling. "Perhaps four, definitely not seven."

Her eyes widened. "That was cruel."

"You said it first; I was attempting to make it better."

"By saying _four_?" she laughed aloud. "Oh Legolas, you know nothing of women, do you? Usually, when trying to make a woman feel better about the way she looks, you should change the subject or—"

He stroked his fingers along her cheek and she had to stop talking, unable to focus on anything but the feel of his fingertips on her face. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, and it ended much too soon. "Yet you could not accept my compliment. Why would I wish to change the subject? I still think you are beautiful, whether you have a rat's nest in your hair or it is soaked or…Ilúvatar knows," he said gently, a lilt in his voice. "My thoughts would not change." His fingertips had remained on her chin as he had lifted it, but now they withdrew, and she almost felt her skin cooling off while they were missing. She tightened her jaw to prevent a visible reaction, but that one was visible enough for Legolas. He was so tempted…so tempted to lean forward and just _brush_ her lips with his… _he was so close_ …

But he did not; he fought his desire and won as he slowly smiled at her and sat back. Just as he did so, just as she opened her mouth to speak, one of the new grooms came down the aisle. Legolas looked up and caught the young man's eye.

"I am sorry, Prince—"

"No trouble," he interrupted, shaking his head.

The man looked over at Enguina, who was now looking at the top of Annî's head. "Is the Lady well? I just saw you and thought I would see if there was something you needed."

"Oh, yes," said Enguina, looking up at him, "I am quite well, thank you."

"We were just resting here a moment," Legolas supplied, "The Princess of Ithilien needed a nap."

Belegore, who had come down as urged by Ceorl, watched the two of them. Oh, Legolas would have Minas Tirith razed to the ground when Enguina was taken; yes, there was no doubt. He had seen it even as he had made his way down the barn aisle just moments ago. It was all over the way they looked at each other. Calendur was right; it would be very easy to draw all of the Queen's protection away…and then, well…all the elf's plans would be fulfilled.

But he just smiled. "I was simply worried for you. Can I get your horses anything? Perhaps a warm rug?" There was a great whinny from Lómë's stall and Brethil threw his head up and down and up again, twisting it from side to side to get attention.

Legolas smiled. "I suppose they would be very happy about a rug. Thank you…"

"Belegore, my Lord," he said, but he did not say it as willingly as he had told the King. He did not wish to get to know any of them very closely; he would likely not be able to follow Calendur's orders if he did.

"Thank you for your offer, Belegore." The young man bowed to him and moved over to see to Brethil and Lómë. Legolas turned back to Enguina and sighed softly. "Shall we carry Annî back to her home so she can sleep a bit more peacefully?"

She nodded. "Yes, please," she replied. "Can you take her so I can—"

"Of course," he said, and he scooped her carefully out of Enguina's arms, careful to touch the child and not the woman herself. Enguina's body was completely off limits to him, and so he was careful with his hands. He wanted her to trust him, and that was a poor way of asking her to, especially after what had happened in the market only days ago. He stood with Annî in his arm and extended a hand to her, pulling her to her feet. "May I carry her back?"

She nodded, and placed her hand gently in the crook of his arm as the three of them made their way out of the stable and back towards the Citadel. It fit there so perfectly that Legolas almost thought she was already a part of him.

* * *

It was only Belegore's fourth morning in the stable on Wednesday, but he was already fully enjoying his duties as caretaker of the horses belonging to the highest ranking officials in all of Gondor…perhaps even in Middle-Earth. When he was there, he was nearly dizzy with the excitement. He knew that not many grew excited over the cleaning of stalls and working with horses, but there was something to be said about their company. They seemed to never judge him, and they also looked as though they enjoyed his company as much as he did theirs. He always received welcoming whinnies and head-butts from them as he cleaned their stalls.

Today, he entered early, simply wishing to spend some time with them before his work began. There were times when just being around horses gave him a thrill, and this was one of those times. He moved down the aisle and stopped before Dwimorisen's stall.

"Good morning, boy," he said as the grey raised his nose to the man's hand. He rubbed it softly, and then ran his fingers through the heavy mane. "How are you and Windfola this morning?" He tossed his head and nickered a few times and Belegore laughed.

"I wish I knew what you were saying," he murmured.

"He says that he is well, and that Windfola would like to see Annî but Faramir does not bring her nearly as much as he should," replied a voice from a few stalls down, "and he wishes to know why you are here so early before your work…as do I." Belegore was surprised to hear any voice, and he looked down the aisle as Brego came out from his stall and stopped in the center. Surely, the words could not have come from the _horse_!

The King emerged from the stall with a smile upon his face, his hand coming to rest on the bay's back. He looked at the younger man, who seemed surprised.

"I am sorry, my Lord. I had no idea you were here," Belegore replied, bowing his head, and Aragorn shook his own.

"You need not ask for forgiveness; it matters so little," he said as he picked up a hard brush to use on Brego's coat. "I am here nearly every morning, but you usually come later in the day, and so do not see me. I thought perhaps at some point this week, I would see you. Brego and Asfaloth must have their morning journey to the Pelennor, and so I must come…and I would not have it any other way."

Belegore nodded. "They are great horses; I suppose they have done their share of deeds in their lifetimes."

Aragorn stroked Brego's neck tenderly, and the bay brought his nose to his face. He smiled at him, and Brego turned his head back forward. "They deserve the best we can offer them. They are good friends and steady companions. One could not ask more of them than has already been given. War and battle and traveling they have seen…and shall probably see again." He turned his eyes back to Belegore, and gave him a brief smile.

The man frowned at him. "I thought there was relative peace," he said, almost irritated by the people's thought that they were in peace. "All everyone speaks of is _peace_." It was the general feeling in Gondor now; the people believed that now their King had returned _nothing_ could go wrong. Belegore knew that Calendur would show them how wrong they were…how wrong it was to assume that things were quiet when there were still those who should have positions of power that had been destroyed. Calendur would teach them a lesson.

Aragorn frowned at him. "In a way," he replied, "there is. The people are sometimes misled. Evil is not done with; evil cannot ever be completely eradicated, and there is still much that we must do to protect Middle-Earth from it." Aragorn sighed, and leaned over to Brego. "Go on," he said, and the bay moved past Belegore up the aisle, shoving his head into Firgenwine's stall. She squealed at him, but then shared her hay as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "Brego, do not pick on her," warned Aragorn, and the bay flicked his tail in response. "Come, Asfaloth." The big grey came from his stall and stood where Brego had. Aragorn began to groom him. "Yes, Belegore, there is still much that we must do."

Belegore snorted. "Do you really believe that evil will ever be truly wiped out?"

Aragorn's frown deepened as he turned towards the younger man, and he stopped what he was doing for a moment. "There is much evil in the world from the deeds of men and many others. It would be foolish to ever hope that there would be complete peace," he said softly, "for there are always those willing to do anything to get what they want…power, wealth, freedom, desire…anything at that moment they want most they are prepared to do anything to get, even if it requires death of one or many."

Belegore looked at him. "There are some who would fight for a cause," his eyes narrowed as he looked at Aragorn thoughtfully. "Do you think that wrong?"

Aragorn laughed softly as he began to brush Asfaloth's coat once more. "No, Belegore, I do not think it _wrong_ , unless the cause is amiss…then, fighting for that reason would be wrong. Men have ever fought the evil of this world so that they might stop the killing of the innocents…and then more die."

"Then why do they fight it? Would not less die if even the evil were allowed to reign?"

Aragorn looked at him. "How can those oppressed live the lives they were meant to live and have the freedom granted by Ilúvatar to all creatures? How can the weak have freedom to live if others do not fight for them?"

"How do you know what they want? Have they spoken to you of it?" Belegore questioned him. "Maybe it is true that the weak know nothing about what they want. Perhaps the weak should learn to fight for themselves," he said stubbornly, and Aragorn turned to him seriously.

"Have you ever seen the life destroyed in the forest of Fangorn where the trees were slaughtered to fuel a furnace for war? Have you ever heard men _weeping_ over the bodies of their wives and children when their village has been burned to the ground? Have you ever heard the cry of a mother who lost her child or husband to orcs?" The King's voice was soft, reflective, and filled with the sorrow of having seen those things, and Belegore could not hold his intense gaze. He looked away, silent. "Have you ever been forced to watch, helpless, as a young woman is taken against her will?" his voice now a harsh whisper, Belegore no longer wished for those images of innocents.

He softly whispered, "No, my Lord, I have not."

Aragorn bowed his head. "That is well; pray that you never do. But if you _did_ hear the cry of the weak, the lonely, the sorrowful, the fearful…you would know that it is your call to fight so that they may be free to live the lives they were _made_ to live." Belegore felt a hand fall upon his shoulder, and was surprised to find Aragorn so near. "Not to toil in bondage to another; not to die under the evil hand of the servants of the Shadow…but to live the way Ilúvatar made them. Each one free to live his own purpose and serve the One in the way he was called to do. _That_ , Belegore…that is why we fight so hard for the weak…not for glory, or power…but for freedom, for Eru's will to be done. The strong must protect, shield, and love the weak to the best of their ability…and die for them if we must."

Belegore looked into his passionate eyes and wondered if he was right. That was _not_ what Calendur believed. Aragorn saw confusion in the man's eyes, but Asfaloth bumped his back. He released the younger man's shoulder, and then smiled.

"Peace is good, Belegore…but it is _love_ that will endure forever. We must fight to protect one another and come to the aid of those we love. Think on that. To protect is to serve; we do it not for glory…but for love, to offer hope and strength to those who have little…or none. Have a good day, son." He patted Asfaloth's shoulder and he called to Brego who spun about to trot up beside Asfaloth.

Behind him, Aragorn left a very thoughtful Belegore.

* * *

Aragorn was out in Ecthelion tonight overseeing the last bit of work within the City to prepare it for the celebration tomorrow. It was a lot of work, but nearly everything was ready; he had handled almost all of it himself as he had been the designer. Nothing was done that he did not do himself.

"Aragorn!" It was Legolas's voice, and he was surprised to hear it, as it was so late in the evening. Normally, his friends left him to his work, especially as they knew that tomorrow was the presentation. He had thought Legolas would be spending time with Enguina and perhaps maybe Arwen.

He turned and nearly ran into the elf. "Good evening, Legolas."

"I know you are busy," Legolas said with a smile, "but I have a question that needs answering."

"Please," he replied, "if I can help."

He crossed his arms, leaning against the table. "Enguina and I have been spending a lot of time traveling about the City together and…it might be simply chance," he sighed, "though I do not think so. I think there is someone following us about."

Aragorn appeared concerned. " _Following_ you? In what manner?"

"It does not appear suspicious," he said honestly. "He appears to be a common man, dressed in common clothes, even kind from what I can tell. But I have seen him everywhere we have been for the last few days, and I think it is _odd_. Why would someone be following us?"

"Do you sense evil intent?"

"No, nothing…if anything I would think the man is _protecting_ us. Could he be a soldier of Gondor?" Legolas shifted uneasily on his feet and looked seriously at Aragorn. "Did you assign someone to be a guard for her and not tell me? You know I would _never_ —"

"Dear Ilúvatar in Heaven, no, Legolas!" Aragorn said vehemently, shaking his head. "But perhaps the guard is there for _her_ , and not against you. I am not the only man, nor woman, in Gondor who could ask for such protection for an individual. Does Enguina notice the man as you have?"

"No, I have not mentioned him. I did not wish to make her nervous with the idea that a man was following her; to be honest, she is flighty enough as it is." He hesitated. "Could it have been Arwen?"

"It could have been," Aragorn agreed, "or Faramir or even Éowyn. There must be a reason for it if he is one of the Ithilien Rangers. Give me a chance to look into it. In the meantime, keep your eyes open, Legolas, as I know you will. If there is anything suspicious, approach him and find out."

"I will. Thank you, Aragorn, for being as concerned as I am."

Aragorn smiled at him. "Legolas, there are some things, such as the safety of every person in this City, that can never be overlooked. And Enguina is a particular friend, and…perhaps something more?"

Legolas looked at him earnestly. "I _desperately_ hope for it in the very near future. I do not wish to rush her…not in the least. And I want her to make the decision to trust me. Love is not won."

Aragorn reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Very wise," he said, "and you have been waiting a long time for someone to spend your life with. I wish you joy."

Legolas smiled at him. "Hannon le. I will allow you to return to your work so that you might hurry home to Arwen."

Aragorn smiled, too. "Hannon le. And I will be sure to ask about the possible guard."

* * *

Arwen and Enguina were enjoying a quiet evening before the hearth. Both of them were completing stitchery of some sort, Arwen working on another tunic of Aragorn's as there never seemed to be a shortage of torn tunics that needed mending, while Enguina was cleverly crafting something amazing for the baby. Sighing loudly, she tossed whatever she had been making down into Arwen's lap. Arwen lowered her sewing and looked up at Enguina from where she sat on the fur before the fire.

"Finished with one!" cried Enguina with a laugh, and Arwen held it up, grinning.

"These are going to be _so_ precious," Arwen cooed, holding the tiny sock between her fingers. "Boy or girl, they will be nice and warm in the winter time."

"Due in three months! How exciting!" Enguina said happily, unable to prevent herself from smiling from ear to ear. "What are you hoping for?"

"Hoping for?" repeated Arwen with a shrug. "I am hoping for the babe to be healthy, and Aragorn is hoping for _me_ to be healthy!" She laughed. "Honestly, Enguina, I could not care if the babe is a girl or boy. It only matters that she is mine…mine and Aragorn's." She stroked her belly.

She sighed wistfully. "I would be hoping for a little boy."

Arwen smiled at her, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yes? Have you been thinking of children recently? I know you, along with Legolas, watched Annî for some time on Sunday. Giving yourself some ideas?"

She laughed. "No!" she denied easily. "I was exhausted just after those few short hours! I cannot _imagine_ caring for a child every hour of the day. Annî was _exhausting_! How do some women have more than one? Is it even possible to care for one while you are carrying another? I cannot see how Éowyn could _function_!"

Arwen laughed. "Honestly, Enguina, it cannot be _that_ difficult. Women have been doing it for _centuries_ …Erumar did it with four."

"But her children were _older_ by the time she had each of them. It was many years in between. And what of you, Arwen? Will _you_ be having four?"

"Aragorn and I spoke of seven…"

" _Seven?!_ " she gasped, staring at her as Arwen laughed at the expression on her face. "You are definitely teasing me."

"No, I am perfectly serious!" she insisted. "We _spoke_ of seven…we will be lucky to have two. It has…already taken me this long to conceive one, and if Erumar is _any_ indication of how long it takes…well…" she hesitated, and looked away from Enguina's eyes, "I am not sure we will have enough time."

Enguina watched her thoughtfully and a bit guiltily. "I keep forgetting you are mortal now," she said softly. "I keep forgetting that your husband will not live forever either."

Arwen gave her a little smile. "And do you like him?"

"Who?"

" _Aragorn_ …who else?" Arwen chided her. "Do you like him?"

"Very much," Enguina replied. "He is thoughtful and kind. I…misjudged him, of course, as is my way," she sighed, "but I have promised myself to do better in the future. I thought him to be a thoughtless sort of person, yet, I see he thinks of you _more_ than any other person. I was worried that he was not good enough for you." She laughed aloud. "He may be mortal, but he is certainly worthy enough. He is a good man just as you said." Pausing a moment, she then continued, "You say little about the fact that he is mortal. You made no comment to mine."

Arwen gave a sigh and studied her. "Enguina, what can I say? Yes, Aragorn is mortal, and some day, I will lose him. Unlike you, I cannot forget that Aragorn and I are mortal; I will never forget. What…what is it you want me to say?"

"I do not know," she said softly. "Mortals live such brief lives, Arwen. _We_ have been alive more years than twenty men who have lived a hundred! Yet, Aragorn does seem wise _beyond_ his years; perhaps this is because he was raised by elves." Enguina sighed. "I worry for you…I do not want you to be alone. When Aragorn dies, what will happen to you?"

The younger elf gave her a wry smile. "You need not worry about that, friend. I will not be here very long without him. No, the least of my worries is living without him when he is gone. But _please_ —"

"Is Aragorn young yet? You still have some time, yes?" she asked softly.

"Aragorn is of the line of the Northern Kingdom, and therefore, was given the gift of long life by Ilúvatar. He may live another hundred years…we will not know such things. Let—"

"That is such a short time!"

"It is long for a man, Enguina. A _thousand_ years would not be enough to love Aragorn…and please, I have few enough years as it is, do not diminish them even further." She quickly broke in before Enguina could cut her off again. "No more of this miserable conversation," she said, reaching up and touching Enguina's hand, "tell me of your day with Legolas!"

"But what of—"

"No," Arwen said firmly, refusing to return to the conversation. "You and Legolas."

"Legolas?" she asked, but there was a bit of a twinkle in her eye she could not prevent. "I was not with Legolas today."

"You are so untruthful!" Arwen laughed, rolling her eyes as curled her fingers in the thick rug beneath her. "But no matter how you try, you cannot hide it from me! I _saw_ you."

"Oh," she blushed, "I suppose I cannot hide it then. But honestly, Gimli was there as well, so it was not only the two of us. You made it sound as though we were all alone."

"Gimli probably _left_ you alone often enough with purpose," she replied with a laugh. "What did you do today?"

"We…" she sighed, thinking, "we helped Gimli with the wall a little bit; then we went for lunch…Legolas took me back to the market and bought us some delicious soup."

"Oh, that sounds nice," Arwen remarked, smiling to herself.

"It really was delicious!" she said with a laugh, but then grew more serious. "Then we walked through the market a bit, but I stayed very close to Legolas this time; I was afraid that man might appear again, and how I would react." She sighed again. "But thankfully, he did not; Legolas kept me completely clear of the taverns altogether. It was a much better visit."

"Have you changed your outlook on the race of men in general, now that you have spent time in the City among them?"

"They are not what I expected, though they are certainly not all as kind as Faramir and Aragorn," she admitted. "But I suppose it _is_ true what they say about leading short, passionate lives. We have so much more time to enjoy the world while they…well, they see so very little of it."

"Yes," Arwen said softly. "You will find that they make decisions without much debate, though there is variety even among their race as well as ours." Dropping the finished tunic off to the side, she leaned back on her hands and then finally, stretched all the way out along the fur on the floor, closing her eyes.

Enguina laughed. "Arwen, what are you doing?" she asked, and Arwen sighed.

"Enjoying stretching out on this _shamefully_ comfortable fur," she replied, looking into the fire for a moment before she rolled onto her side and smiled at Enguina. "It is so warm…I _love_ lying here…especially in winter." She dragged her fingers through the long softness of it.

"Alpaca?" Enguina asked with a laugh, extending her toes into it. "Ooo…that _is_ nice. Remind me if ever I decide to build a home, I want one of those in it!"

"Aragorn found it at the market," she said softly, remembering, "but I never thought he would actually buy it after I mentioned how much I loved it. He bought it for our anniversary this year." She said no more, but Enguina could tell by the faint blush on her cheeks that she was either remembering something…or that there was _much_ more to the story than what she was telling.

She nudged Arwen's foot with her toes. "There is more to _that_ tale."

"Mmm…" she murmured, not meeting her eyes, but she blushed a bit more, her mind somewhere else, her fingers stroking through the fur.

"You almost _never_ get embarrassed!" laughed Enguina, prodding her again. "This must be a _very_ interesting tale—"

"That I am _not_ telling," Arwen insisted. "It is not for your ears." She smiled, barely able to hide her own pleasure at her memories. "At least not yet."

"Not for my—? What? I am a grown woman, _and_ your best friend. Come now, Arwen!" She rolled her eyes. "I have not lived under a _rock_ my entire life, and I saw that look you were giving Aragorn at supper—"

"It is not that, Enguina. I have spent too much of this year…no," she said, shaking her head. "Let it be. I am not about to relate all of the circumstances that—" She suddenly shifted her hand to her womb, her breath catching.

"What?!" cried Enguina, launching to her feet and fumbling with the yarn she was using to sew as it rolled from her lap and across the room.

Arwen laughed softly. "Calm _down_ , Enguina; the baby only moved. He is kicking."

"Really? Can I-?"

"Of course! Come here," she replied, and she reached out for Enguina's hand as she sat beside her almost immediately, curling her legs beneath her on the rug. Arwen placed the older elf's hand on her belly as they both waited intently for the baby's next move.

Enguina gasped, feeling the child kick out, and then kick again. She took her other hand and laid it on Arwen's womb as well, feeling the child within Arwen's body. She sat with her mouth open, unable to speak as she felt an elbow or a knee here or there…it was an unbelievable feeling. Looking over into Arwen's face, her friend had her eyes closed, but her hand was resting on Enguina's all the while, the other propping up her head.

"Oh Ilúvatar…" Enguina whispered, tears in her eyes, "that is the most…oh, it is _amazing_. I cannot even describe that feeling…it is a _life_ — _inside_ you...a _baby_ …"

"It _is_ amazing, is it not?" Arwen asked, her eyes still closed, feeling her little one so active inside her. "He is going to be so… _rambunctious_ …he will be everywhere at once, a miniature Aragorn, always active, in the thick of things."

"That was you at one time as well, I remember. You act as though you were always so proper." She laughed, "But I remember you better! I wish you could ride to the river with me as we used to do in Lórien! How we would swim naked in the Celebrant—"

"Even though you _hated_ swimming," Arwen pointed out.

"Yes!" she laughed. "Even so! But perhaps, when you are not so pregnant, we can ride together again." Arwen smiled at her and looked up into her eyes, feeling Enguina's hands still smoothing over her womb.

"I could ride with you now," she said, and then teased, "we would simply walk. Aragorn teased me that Asfaloth is going to forget who I am, but he is right. I _should_ get down there to see him."

"Perhaps we could visit the horses in the morning, but I am not sure riding is the best idea in your condition," she mentioned.

" _My condition_?" Arwen quoted, laughing. "I am _pregnant_ , Enguina, not ill!"

"And beside that," Enguina said hastily, "Legolas and I are supposed to meet for breakfast; officially he was going to take me to get one of those muffins he is always talking about, and then—"

"So," Arwen interrupted, a little grin on her face, "Legolas is escorting you to every meal now?" Enguina shook her head.

"Not _every_ …well, perhaps _most_ meals…although I am not quite sure I am ready to admit that," she said with a blush.

"He is courting you."

"No, he is not," Enguina insisted, shaking her head adamantly.

"Oh, maybe neither one of you has said so," Arwen said, raising her eyebrows, "but he is most _definitely_ courting you: taking you to meals, showing you lovely places, introducing you to all of his friends, cooking dinner with you, being completely attentive to you more than any other person in the room…oh, most definitely courting." The smirk on her lips sealed the deal.

" _Arwen_ ," Enguina moaned, covering her face with one hand while still trying to follow the child with the other, "please…this conversation is _killing_ me…"

"Only because you do not wish to have it!"

"You would not tell me about this _rug_ before…why should I want to address whether I think it is courting or not?"

"All right," Arwen said, raising her eyebrows, "I will tell you whatever you wish to know about this fur if _you_ tell me, _first_ , how you really feel about Legolas."

"What?!" cried Enguina, laughing. "That is not even a _deal_. We were not discussing my feelings for Legolas, we were discussing whether I agreed that he was courting me!"

"That is the same."

"It most certainly is not."

"Your choice," Arwen said flippantly, "but I guarantee that the story surrounding this fur is as _scorching_ a tale as you would ever—"

" _Fine,"_ Enguina said, and gave a sigh of exceedingly longsuffering while rolling her eyes, "tell me your—"

"No… _you_. Feelings…Legolas…go."

She sighed. "Arwen…it is complicated."

"Let me help you un-complicate it, then," Arwen said, her voice much less teasing and much more serious. "Please, Enguina…"

"Oh, Eru, do not beg," she groaned. "Legolas is… I feel like… I think…" She stopped, frustrated, trying to collect herself. " _Damn it all_ ," she muttered. "I _want_ to be near him. I want to _know_ him. When I am with him, I feel as though I do not have to be afraid."

Pause. "Of your dreams?"

"Of _anything_ ," she said honestly. "He is kind and good and…everything he _does_ is that way. He wants to defend me; he recognizes everything about me. I feel as though he has known me forever, that we have been friends for _years_ instead of days."

"It is amazing how well he reads others. A gift."

"Eru…he is _good_ at it," she muttered, "he is unbelievable. He listed all of my faults in three minutes and then listed all of my praises shortly thereafter, and he was _right_ about all of it. He makes me feel…he makes me feel…" She shook her head, laughing. "I promised myself I was not going to say it out loud."

"He makes you feel…?" Arwen prompted, but Enguina shook her head. Arwen gave her a wry smile. "I will fill in the blank if _you_ do not," she threatened. When silence ensued, Arwen jumped on it. "Like a woman…warm and fuzzy inside…like a lion waiting to pounce…he makes you feel as though you wished he would take you in his arms and kiss you until you were _senseless_ —"

"Arwen!"

"Well, then, tell me," she chuckled as Enguina shoved her arm.

"When he looks at me, he makes me feel as though I am the only person in his entire world that can make him smile," she said, blushing furiously. "He makes me feel as though I _matter_. It is almost as though…he holds his _breath_ waiting for my every word. I…have never felt this way before…as though I was someone's world. I have never felt cared for like this. It is…it is…"

"Captivating."

"Yes," Enguina agreed, staring at her, "it is fascinating to me…that he cares about everything I think and feel. He makes me feel as though I could want a life again, Arwen." She sighed, her eyes confused. "But…that will change when he… _he_ will change…if he finds out that I…"

"That you _what_?" grouched Arwen, her eyes immediately growing darker. "You _nothing_. Enguina, you are _clean._ "

"Just because you _say_ I am does not make it so!" Enguina cried, pulling her hands into her lap as the baby had stopped moving, and Arwen sat up staring at her. "His hands were _on_ me…in places he never should have been. His mouth…his…his…" she shook her head, her face growing pale with disgust. "Once Legolas knows how he touched me…what he did to me…what happened…he will not have any desire to touch me himself." She thought of his hand on her arm, on her back…thought about even that small touch going away, thought of the way his fingertips brushed her cheek in the barn…she flinched. "No, he will want nothing to do with me. And who could blame him?" She crossed her arms as if cold, protecting herself. "I am…I am damaged… _used_."

" _God…if you could hear yourself_ ," Arwen whispered, and her voice was so full of pain that Enguina looked into her face. "It tears out my heart when you say things like that."

"But they are true."

"Did you beg Bragolaur to take you?" Arwen asked suddenly. "Did you ask him to touch you in that way, to take you as he wanted in whatever way he wanted?"

Enguina thrust her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes closed. "Arwen, I do not want to speak of this anymore. I _cannot_!"

" _Did you_?" she asked reaching out to pull Enguina's hands down. "No one will ever know your answer except me. Did you? Did you invite him, _ask_ him to—"

"What?" Enguina looked horrified, as though Arwen had asked her if she had murdered her own brother. "Ilúvatar, no! No! I _begged_ him to stop!" Her voice began to grow quite hysterical. "No! _I begged him!_ He…he _tied_ _me down_! He forced my…" She broke off, a sob cutting through her words, tears coming to her eyes. "How could you even _suggest_ —"

"You have to _see_ …you have to understand how different love is from what you have known, Enguina," Arwen whispered, taking her hands in one of hers and touching her face with the other. "Listen to me. You have never known the real love of a man; you have only known Bragolaur and…and he did not _love_ you. All you have to compare him to is Legolas, and he cannot make you feel the difference…not yet. You have never felt the way that a man's hands touch you because he _cares_ , how his eyes darken with _pleasure_ only because you smiled at him." She laughed suddenly. "No, those things you probably _do_ know, as you have experienced how wonderful Legolas can be."

"I know how different he is from…I cannot say his name," she whispered, closing her eyes. "To say his name is to live it again. But it is the only reason I can spend time with Legolas…I do not see _him_ every time I am with him."

"You know that he is different," Arwen agreed, her voice as soft as Enguina's, "but what you have known at the mercy of Bragolaur's hands is not real. That is not what it is really like. Not at all. Enguina, you have never felt how gentle a man can be when he loves you, it can be soft and slow and take _forever_ because he loves you…you and you alone. And you were made for him, and he for you, and when you make love with him what you share is…is…oh, Ilúvatar, Enguina you have no idea! You cannot see past what has happened to you, but I have _loved…_ and _been_ loved."

Enguina blushed crimson at her words. Hearing her best friend speaking of love-making, when all she knew of it was wrong… "Arwen, you should not be saying these things to me. Not…"

"Yes I should," she continued in a whisper. "When you speak of yourself in that soul-destroying way, that no man could ever love you because of what happened, it breaks my heart." Her eyes flooded with tears. "For me to think, that you would never feel what it is to be _loved,_ to be held that way, to be held so close, skin-to-skin to the only one that matters—"

" _Arwen_ —"

"It is the way Ilúvatar made it to feel…when you become as one, in love, in marriage, and yes, in flesh. And when I think that you will miss that experience, the experience of surrendering yourself to a person because you _want_ to, because you want to give everything you have to that one man, because your love has brought you to the place where you want to share your soul, give it to them, let them have it, own it, share it…for you to _miss that_ …it breaks my heart." Arwen was choking on her words, and Enguina simply stared at her. "When I think of what he did to you…when I saw you that way, when he…it makes me sick. To know how I have loved Aragorn, and been one with him in _love…to be loved, not used…_ Oh, sweet friend, you were _made_ to be _loved_. I do not want you to miss it; it is too wonderful for words, too beautiful to be described."

"Arwen…I have never heard you speak as you do," she replied softly, tugging her hands from Arwen's to wipe the tears from her friend's face. "Your words, what you feel…I wish I could believe that I would someday feel that, experience it. It is so difficult to try and let go of what happened when I have such a fear of what will be if he…" She shook her head. "No, not _if…when_ he finds out, when he learns the truth. He will not wish to have anything to do with me."

"But it was not _you_ ," Arwen said again. "It was _him_ ; can you not see that? Can you not see that _he_ was wrong; not you. You did nothing wrong." She took Enguina's hands in hers again. "Legolas can read you so well, yet, can you not read him? Have you learned nothing about him in this past week that you have spent at his side? If you know _anything_ about Legolas…he is full of compassion; he yearns to protect you, take care of you."

"I do not wish his pity either," she said softly.

"Enguina, it is not hard to see that Legolas _adores_ you," she said, sighing. "If only you could see the way he looks at you, walks around you…the way he treats you. He has fallen for you."

"Fallen for me?" she quoted. "Do you not mean falling?"

"No, fallen!" Arwen cried. "Head over heels, heart pounding, stomach somersaulting in _love._ "

"Oh Arwen, do not be ridiculous! How can you know that?" asked an exasperated Enguina.

"Because I have seen it…I have _been_ there when Aragorn was falling for me. I knew, long before I admitted it to myself that his admiration was there. It was in the way he touched me, the way he was so thoughtful, the things he said, the way he reached out to me and brought me ever so closer to him…the way Legolas is reaching out to you."

"Part of me wants him to continue reaching for me," she said softly, "and the other part of me is…terrified of being…what was the word you used—yes— _used_ again."

"Legolas is not using you," Arwen said softly. "Can you not _feel_ the difference? In his glance? In his eyes? Even in his hands? Feel the way he _touches_ you! You know the difference! When Aragorn touches me…I am a precious flower, breakable glass, his entire world…" she closed her eyes, squeezing Enguina's hands, "his love is like a shelter in a storm."

"It is… _awkward_ to hear you speak of love-making in the way you do," she said, a bit embarrassed. "You are married now, and I feel like I am prying…and it is embarrassing me."

"You are not prying, and I do not mean to embarrass you. I wish I could fully explain the difference, Enguina," she said, "the difference between what you experienced and what is real." She lifted her shoulders gently, "But how does one describe a feeling that is unexplainable?"

"That is what it is supposed to be like?" she whispered, and Arwen touched her face.

" _Yes_ ," she said, and she heard the front door open, and she could not help but smile. "Yes, love, that is what it is supposed to be like…unexplainable; no words that could be put together to describe the feeling of completeness. To be loved like that…to be wanted in a way that makes you whole, one identity…" She shook her head and then lifted it to meet Enguina's eyes. "If you open yourself, Enguina, if you can free yourself from these chains…you have the opportunity to experience something that is true. Love is not beyond you; let it find you still."

"In Legolas?" she asked softly, as though she never meant to speak the words aloud. As Aragorn crossed the threshold, he stopped, not meaning to intrude. Arwen nodded in response to her, unwilling to embarrass Enguina further by saying Legolas's name. Enguina, who had heard him enter as well, turned and smiled at Aragorn as though he did not recognize he had entered on the end of a serious discussion. "Good evening, my Lord."

"Aragorn," he stated, and he leaned against the door frame, "and good evening. It is late."

" _You_ are late," Arwen teased. "Finished preparing?"

He sighed. "If I must be."

"'Finished preparing?'" asked Enguina. "For what?"

"There is a bit of a… _celebration_ tomorrow," Arwen said. "You must have had your eyes fixed on something awfully important not to notice the preparations going on all day." She winced as Enguina pinched her arm. "Legolas is probably taking you for breakfast before it in the morning." She reached over and brought Enguina's hand to her womb again.

Aragorn immediately stood up straight and walked over. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing," Arwen soothed, looking up at him and smiling. "Enguina is feeling the baby."

He fought an unmistakable urge to run to her side and place his hands on her belly himself. The twinkle in Arwen's eye told him that she knew, but he restrained himself. Instead he sighed, sitting in the chair Enguina had left. "Forgive me; I thought something was the matter."

"Your babe is so _active_ ," Enguina said with a laugh. Then she sighed. "I suppose if there _is_ some sort of… _celebration_ tomorrow, I should get to bed." Arwen released her hand and she rose to her feet just as Aragorn did. "You just arrived," she began, "please, I can—"

"No, I will walk you," Aragorn insisted, resting his hand on her arm. He glanced at Arwen. "I will be back in a moment, beloved."

"Good night, Enguina," Arwen said softly. "We will see you after breakfast?"

"Yes," she said, but as she began to walk out, she could not help that her mind was fixed on that word that Aragorn had just used for Arwen… _beloved_. There was something so…wonderful about that word. More than ever, she wanted to know what Arwen felt. At the door, she suddenly caught herself and turned back. "Wait, you never finished the story about that f—"

"Perhaps another evening," Arwen said, shaking her head. "It is too late now."

Enguina gave her a brief scowl. "But you _promised_ that if I—"

"Another evening," she reiterated, and then called, "Good night!"

Enguina threw her hands in the air, huffed, and turned over the threshold. Aragorn looked a bit confused, but he followed her out, leaving Arwen with quite a grin on her face.

* * *

When Aragorn reentered the King's House, he expected Arwen to be in bed and most of the candles to be out. Aragorn removed his boots and kicked them off by the door, unwilling to track any more water into the House from the outside. He did find the candles out, but he found _her_ sitting almost where she had been, her legs curled beneath her on that fur she loved so much, the blanket from Rohan covering her. The light from the fire surrounded her with an unearthly glow, and he stood, his heart in his throat as he stared, transfixed by her beauty.

"Did you see Enguina home safely?" she asked, but she did not turn back to look at him.

Aragorn wished to respond, truly, he wished to, but there was no way he could. In fact, he could not even remember the question she had asked just then. When he did not respond, she turned her head to look at him, the blanket falling a bit off her shoulder.

"Have I rendered you speechless, my Lord?" she continued, her mouth turned up into a little smile. He noticed, quite suddenly, that the shoulder that had been exposed by her turn was bare, and he longed with every fiber of his being to press his lips to it. "Enguina is not with you, so I must assume that she is safe at home."

He closed the distance between them; as he drew near to her, he watched her release the blanket a bit more and it slipped further back…revealing that she wore absolutely nothing beneath it. The fire crackled.

"You are… _incomprehensibly_ beautiful tonight," he whispered. As his toes reached the edge of the fur, he knelt beside her, reaching out to slowly draw his fingers along her cheek.

"I was lying here tonight," she said in a low voice, "speaking with Enguina, and I could not help but be drawn back to that first night that you brought this home for me." His fingers were making their way back to her ear and she knew that soon her desire, her control, would come undone. "The memory made me tremble…to remember you loving me like that. I nearly embarrassed myself in front of Enguina just thinking about you."

"Embarrassed yourself?" he asked softly, confused. "How so?"

She closed her eyes, feeling his fingertips stroke underneath her jaw, up behind her ear, into her hair and back. "I did not want to relate to her all the circumstances surrounding this blanket," she murmured. "The council…the accusations…my womb being barren…that woman…Faramir's anger…our love-making…your pledge." There were some things that she had mentioned first he did _not_ want to think about, and the rest brought back pleasant memories. He watched her hand stroke through the fur and then she reached forward with her other hand and laid it on his knee. "Meleth, there are…certain things that should not be said out loud…certain feelings that can only be felt, never put into words."

He leaned forward and tilted his head, bringing his lips to hers in a long kiss. His fingers found the tips of her ears then, and she found that she had been right without realizing it; her hands dropped the blanket and reached up and around his neck, drawing him into her tightly. Her body trembled as she kissed him, and he sat back on his feet, holding her face gently in his hands, and letting his eyes roam down along her naked, fire-lit form to the six-month bump of her womb. He let his hands push the blanket from her shoulders and one caught the edge of it and tugged it from the fur, leaving it on the floor alongside.

"Come here," he whispered, and she moved into him as he wrapped his arms all the way about her, on his knees now as she was on hers, touching her silky skin with his calloused hands, kissing her as though he had not done so in months, her fingers wrapped in his hair and holding her mouth to his. This… _this_ was what she meant when she had been speaking to Enguina earlier. The way his hands kept _learning_ her, touching her, fueling her desire for him into a mad rush that burned its way through her veins. Seven years of practice with him and they were still learning; seven years of making love to him and she still felt completely captivated by him…she hoped she would feel this way forever, as though she could not wait for his next move, as though she never could grow tired of making love to him. It was always new as they came together in that way only they could; perfect, undying love.

She felt his hand trail along her back to her hip and down her leg, sweeping his hand on her skin as the other wound around the back of her neck to keep her lips against him. His hand came back to her hip and followed around to her womb, his fingers stroking the place where their child lay. She was so intent on kissing him that her brain missed most of what his hand was doing to her, but her nerves felt it, his fingers soon reaching up to her breast. She bit her lip and pressed herself into him before letting out the breath she had been holding. There were times when he touched her that she would lose her mind in desire for him…so would he.

" _Lay me down, Aragorn_ ," she whispered into his mouth. He obeyed; scooting her even closer to him by her hips, he ran his hands up her back and dropped her into them, lowering her down against the fur. He leaned over her, kissing her again, his hands leaving a trail of love up and down her skin. Her hands caught the edge of his tunic and pulled it up towards his head. He backed up, allowing her to tug it from him; before she was able to put it down beside them, his hands were back on her body. She allowed hers to roam along his back, feeling the heat of him as he leaned his skin against hers.

She felt her breath leave her for a second and heard him chuckle in her ear as his hand slipped between them, feeling her womb. "Our baby is very strong," he whispered, pressing his lips to her ear. She responded to him by trembling, and then taking a bit of revenge on him, kissing along his jaw and across the sensitive parts of his throat.

She smiled to herself, dragging her nails slowly up his back as he groaned into her ear. "He is going to be so much like you," she whispered, letting her breath caress his neck. He continued to stroke her belly gently, touching his lips to her right ear and pressing his chest to hers. His eyes closed and he laid her shoulders back even more deeply into the fur, looking into her eyes as her hands roamed across his chest.

"That is the beauty of having a baby…" he whispered, "the child is both you and me, so he will be like both of us." The baby must have been tumbling inside her because while his stomach was pressed to hers, he felt the child. He chuckled, and she felt his hand stroke down her side to her hip again. It made her want to close her eyes and just lay back and let him touch her; she knew he loved to give her pleasure, and she loved to give it to him as well. But no matter how nice this fur was, she was lying on the flat wooden floor, and with the baby moving this way…

"I cannot possibly lie here like this for much longer," she laughed softly.

"I know," he whispered lovingly, running a hand through her hair. "But I know, too, how much you love this rug."

She laid a hand along his cheek, stroking his face with her thumb. "I want to stay here," she whispered, but she began to squirm a bit. He chuckled as he lifted himself up and took her hip in his hand, rolling her onto her side and into him. He slipped an arm beneath her head, and pressed her against his chest again, where she planted a kiss to the center of him. Running her hand from his muscular arm down to his hip, she raised her eyebrow at him. "You are overdressed, lover of my soul."

"Mmm," he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair and stroking her ear.

"Cheating," she barely got out as she trembled against him.

"Are you going to be comfortable here," he asked, "or should I lift you to the bed?"

"Oh," she moaned as his hands found a sensitive place and his mouth the tip of her ear, "I have a few ideas," she stuttered out. "If you keep doing that, I will be comfortable no matter where I lay."

He chuckled, his breath warm on her ear. "Let me touch you," he whispered, kissing her ear again, and she pressed into him as he dragged his hand along her back, rubbing that sore spot from carrying the child.

His voice was so low, and she looked up into his eyes. "You are already doing that, Aragorn. Get undressed," she chastised him, and he chuckled again, as she continued, "I am growing impatient, and my plan for the next several moments requires you to be as undressed as I am."

"My…we are… _serious_ about this tonight."

"Aragorn…" she said, rubbing her nose against his and then leaning back enough that she could look in his eyes, trying to focus while his hands were… _heaven_ , "I have been thinking, since I first looked up at you when you walked in the door, when _Enguina_ was still here, of several ways of undressing you…and at least _six_ different ways of making love to you tonight that I thought might be comfortable."

"Are we trying all of them?" he asked, and she felt him pull her closer instead of releasing her so that he could undress.

"How long can you stay awake?" she whispered, and he laughed as he kissed her.

"Take it slow, Arwen," he murmured. "The baby is getting larger and we have to be careful."

"We did pretty well last week," she said, kissing him again, wrapping a hand in his hair. "Gentle is the main word…but you are always careful with me."

"That is because I love you," he whispered back, and she hooked the fingers of her left hand in the hip of his trousers. "You _are_ impatient. Do not drive me to be intense with you."

"Aragorn," she groaned, "stop _teasing_ me." His hands were driving her mad. "If you do not get undressed soon—"

"You need not threaten, beloved," he said, "it is simply difficult to convince myself to stop touching you."

"Let _me_ help," she said suddenly, and she rolled to a sitting position and quickly removed any obstacles left between them. He laughed while she did, but was ready for her when she was finished 'helping.' She was his world, and he hers.

The two of them reminisced about the fur _long_ into the night.


	12. Chapter 12

Men, women, and children were gathered in the courtyard from all over the city. Today, King Elessar would honor those who fought in the War of the Ring. For the people, it was exciting to be able to witness such an event that was making history, for these statues would stand for all time. The wall was nearly completed, Rammas Echor was almost entirely repaired, and the damage that had been done during the War that had taken years to repair within the City itself had been completed earlier this year. It was time to celebrate, and everyone in Minas Tirith was looking forward to the following celebration.

The King in question stood just within the door of the Tower's exit to the courtyard, waiting to enter the place he would speak. He had been waiting to honor his friends for quite some time, and if this was the only way he could do it, so be it. He did not like to make speeches; however, on occasion they were necessary. These forms would stand as a testament in stone for all they had done for both Middle-Earth, and, in a much more personal way, for him. For what was there in his character that each of these friends had not helped him bring out? Each one had played a role of significance in his life and their courage, love, honor, and companionship had touched him deeply.

Standing a few feet away was his Queen, and she took in the full sight of her husband. His shining armor and royal cloak added to his proud stature and his face was noble and just. The crown set upon his head seemed to her as if it should always have been there, and it fit as if it had been made for him. A green stone hung around his neck within the breast of an eagle and it shone brightly in the sun. Arwen moved behind Aragorn, smoothing his cloak down over his shoulders. He turned towards her and smiled gently. He lifted her chin with his fingertips, watching the sun flicker in the gems of her crown; she wore blue, a color matching her beautiful eyes. She was just as lovely now as she had been in the firelight last evening.

"You are more radiant than the stars in the evening, my Lady," he whispered, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. She smiled and looked up at him.

"My Lord, you flatter me as always, but if I am the evening then you most certainly are the morning, for you shine more brightly and more handsomely than the sun ever shall. And here you are…in the City that once was known as Minas Anor." She kissed his chin, and held his shoulders tightly, hoping to pass on her strength to him. "You look distinguished and powerful, and if that would frighten some, it would be your kind eyes that would return them to you. All will go well, my Lord. You do your friends great honor today; know that their thoughts, even though some have gone, are with you."

"Your words are kind, beloved." He glanced back to the gathered crowd. "They are about to announce us."

"Are you ready, my Lord?" she asked softly, and he turned to meet her eyes and smiled.

"I do not believe I should ever be ready…not for this. Surely, I shall do my best." He extended to her his arm, she took it, and together they moved out into the sunlight of the courtyard. The shouts of the people filled their ears while the waving of hands and the smiling of faces filled their eyes. The people loved their King and Queen without a doubt.

Within the first few rows of the crowd stood Enguina, Legolas, and Gimli. On the dais near him, the King saw Faramir and Éowyn and he nodded to them. King Elessar smiled at his people and held up a hand to lead them to silence. Arwen released his arm and stood nearby.

Enguina watched from Legolas's side below; she had known that Arwen and Aragorn were well-loved by their people, but she had no idea the depth of their love. Looking at the faces around her, there was not a single person who was not hanging on every word that was going to come from the King's lips. More eyes were fixed on Arwen, for even though they saw her most days within the City, she was even more beautiful on the dais before them…and to be so visibly with child! The people had so many reasons to rejoice. Even Hildanir, who she had met the day she had arrived, stood on the dais with a large wooden chest before him, covered statues to his right. Enguina glanced over at Legolas, but even his eyes were fixed on Aragorn. It gave her a moment to study his profile…and then she blushed as she _too_ should have been paying his words some attention.

"We are gathered here today to honor those who have accomplished extraordinary deeds for Middle-Earth. Each man and woman, elf and mortal, hobbit and dwarf, pledged their lives to make peace out of Sauron's destruction. Let us remember today the sacrifice each of them made during the War…and how true each one held to their purpose. Today we will remember them by giving an account of some of the tales of the Great War, and the downfall of the Lord of the Rings.

"Allow me to begin at the time of the Fellowship of the Ring's battle on the shores of the Anduin above Rauros Falls." The King looked over to Hildanir and nodded once; the young guard moved forward and removed the covering from the first statue. Nearly all that stood in the courtyard knew his face, and many bowed their heads in honor of him. "Who here can say they do not remember the fair stature and proud shield of Boromir, son of Denethor? Many of you knew him as a leader of the people, a fierce warrior for this country. I knew him as the most noble of men…and a loyal friend, who sought always to do for Gondor what he knew to be the best for its interests. He fought to save the lives of two young hobbits known well in this land until he could do so no longer. He fought bravely and he never lost his honor."

Elessar bowed his crowned head. "In his last moments, he thought only of you, Minas Tirith, his City, his people. Only for Gondor did he regret his own passing, for he wished to fight on to restore its strength and glory." He extended his hand again toward the statue. "This statue of Boromir, son of Gondor, shall remain in our fair city as a testament to those who fought and are still fighting for the realm of the Reunited Kingdom, and for those who have passed away. Forever, in stone, will he be seen upon the wall, gazing ever Northward to Rauros Falls until the end of days. People of Gondor…let us remember them. These are our brethren." He said a silent prayer for them and then lifted his head to look upon Faramir whose gaze was sorrowful. Éowyn held his arm gently as his eyes looked at his brother's face carved into the stone. Elessar smiled at them softly.

"I would call forward Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, Captain of the Guard, son of Gondor, and brother of Boromir." Faramir was taken completely by surprise, but he let go of Éowyn and moved forward towards the King. King Elessar looked down upon him, his grey eyes filled with a kindly light. "There are many ties between brothers whose bonds are strong. There is much honor in you, just as there was in your brother; you have proved yourself a hundred times over to this City. May the strength in your blood sustain you, son of Denethor." Faramir bowed his head, and the King placed a hand on his shoulder. "I wish to give you something." He turned and Hildanir stepped up beside him, placing what seemed to be leather in his hands. Elessar looked back to Faramir, and the man could see that they were worn leather vambraces etched with the emblem of the White Tree.

"Five years ago, I comforted and blessed your brother as he passed away in my arms by the River Anduin." Faramir's eyes were stunned; he never knew that Aragorn had been there when his brother died. "Legolas, Gimli, and I placed him in a boat upon the river to be carried over the falls with the weapons of his slain enemies at his feet. We sang a lament, the words of which I cannot utter again, and when we could see his boat no longer, we grieved much for his passing. As a tribute to this son of Gondor, I took from his wrists these leather vambraces and placed them on my own. This was so the memory of Boromir would live on, that he would continue to fight without hesitation as he had before." As he spoke, he removed those that were on Faramir's wrists and replaced them with those he held. "May you now take these vambraces of your brother and wear them in memory and in honor of him." Faramir's eyes shone with tears and he bowed low before him.

"How do I thank you, my Lord?" he whispered, and the King laid his right hand on Faramir's head.

"No gratitude is needed when I owed your brother such a debt. A blessing on you and your house, Faramir, Son of Gondor! May the love of your brother and his love for you live forever in your heart. Go in peace." King Elessar removed his hand and Faramir stood. His love for the King was shining in his eyes as he took his position beside Éowyn once again. Hildanir stepped forward and removed the coverings of the next statue, revealing a fearsome horse and rider with a sword uplifted before the sky.

"Who here does not remember the riding of the Rohirrim in the Battle of Pelennor Fields? This statue of Théoden son of Thengel, King of Rohan at the time of the battle, will remain a standing pledge of the good will between the realm of the Reunited Kingdom and the realm of Rohan; whenever one is besieged or beset by evil, the other shall ride to help. Théoden King passed away at Pelennor Fields, but he is not forgotten by his people, nor by those who loved him. He was a strong and valiant King, and his sister-son who now leads the people of Rohan, is a man of his character. This statue is also, in part, in memorial of those who have passed away of Rohan, and in honor of those who will fight to protect those boundaries still. People of Gondor, let us remember them. These are our brethren."

Hildanir stepped forward again and revealed the second to the last statue. Carved in this stone was the gentle face of a Halfling—a hobbit.

"Who here does not remember the quest of the Ringbearer, Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo, and his faithful servant, Samwise Gamgee? To Mount Doom they journeyed, believing never to return to their land of the Shire. Frodo has passed on to the Undying Lands, to Valinor, so that he might live in peace until the end of his days, but he will never, in all of the stories and lore and legend of the Reunited Kingdom, be forgotten. Frodo was hailed as a hero and a mighty Ringbearer, but here on this statue you may notice an almost childlike face. This is to capture the innocence of that dear hobbit as once I knew him, before his toil as a bearer of the Ring of Power. This statue will honor the memory of the trials that the quest signifies for all hobbits. It is for their memory, and in tribute to those who still serve here and in Rohan. People of Gondor, let us remember them. These are our brethren.

"The final statue presented here today is very near to me. At Helm's Deep, their presence was unexpected, yet we would not have been victorious without their sacrifice. Many of you here in Gondor will not know the story, but in the Deep we could have been destroyed and hope would have fallen away. Many fought and gave their lives bravely, but without the leadership of one elf, the battle would have been lost. Without his guidance and authority, the elves that came to our aid in the Deep would not have arrived, and our last stand would have been the final stand of Rohan. This immortal of the Golden Wood…was Haldir of Lothlórien."

As the cover on the statue was drawn back, Enguina found herself staring into the very eyes of her brother. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked upon him. Much as he had looked to her in the days before the War, he stood tall and proud in his warrior's armor, his bow long and ornate in his left hand, his long sword from Lothlórien in his right. As she looked on him for the first time since his leaving, her eyes filled with tears. In spite of the shock, she felt a familiar warm hand on her back. She knew it was Legolas; she could not look at him.

"Haldir was a man of virtue and presence, and he honored the allegiance between men and elves. He came to our aid before we had given up hope, and he fought bravely until he was slain by two Uruk-hai warriors. He was strong in life, and his features will stand for all of Middle-Earth to see, both here and in Helm's Deep, where a statue in the likeness of this one shall be placed over his grave. The statue in the Deep will honor the elves that fought and passed there, while the one that shall rest in Gondor will ever face westward toward the Undying Lands, symbolizing our alliance with our Elven kindred. People of Gondor, let us remember them. These…" he swallowed hard, "are our brethren.

"There is one among us today who has been staying in our fair City for over a week now. Many of you have met her as she has traveled about Minas Tirith. She is Enguina of Lothlórien, sister of Haldir; I would call her forward if she would consent to come."

Enguina stood, astounded at being singled out in any way at such a formal event. She could not _imagine_ actually going up there and standing across from him, and there was no way she could even remotely get her feet to move. She was so stunned that she could do nothing but stare at the King standing before her. He had honored her brother; what could he want _her_ for?

She felt Legolas touch her elbow and it jarred her. "Guin…" he whispered.

" _What do I do?_ " she hoarsely whispered, finding her voice.

"Go," he whispered back, pushing her gently with his fingers applying pressure to her arm. She felt her feet moving…and surprised herself by making it to the stage without stumbling to her knees in front of a few thousand Gondorians. But there was no way she could look at them; at the moment, she had eyes only for the man before. As she looked upon the King Elessar, she knew he was more than any man, and her heart was moved by such a show of empathy and caring for Middle Earth…and her brother. She knew then, no matter what more he could say or do, that she would forever be in reverence of the King of Gondor who had spoken to her heart. His grey eyes were kind.

"There are two things, Enguina, sister of Haldir, that I wish to give to you in this time we have set aside." He turned and Hildanir drew forth a small, but sturdy sapling of a mallorn tree. Taking it from him and holding it gently, he spoke again. "For those here who know not of the trees of Lothlórien…this is a mallorn, a tree whose leaves are green in the summer and do not fall in the autumn, but turn to gold. On my return journey from the Shire several years ago, I found it growing on the outskirts of the Golden Wood and I sought to plant it here in Gondor when it had grown sturdy and strong. I would now lay this honor on you, if you would accept it; to plant this tree in memory of your brother here in the garden of the White Tree so that it may grow strong and healthy forever; those in Gondor will be reminded of what our Elven kindred have done for us, and how they still serve."

Enguina bowed her head, finding her voice as if by some miracle. "Thank you, my Lord," she whispered, accepting the small mallorn, and gazing in wonder at its noble stature no matter how short.

"One last gift I would like to give to you, maiden of Lothlórien!" After reaching into the wooden chest, Hildanir came over to the King and bowed upon one knee, extending a sheath out to him. Elessar took it reverently, and Hildanir stood and took his place once more with the guard as the King turned back to Enguina. "The night Haldir fell on the stairs of the Deep, he held a long sword of elvish make that he carried with him into war. When I knew him, he and I had spoken of it only once and he had told me its story. In memory of him, I took this sword, and Brego, the faithful horse who bore me, carried it through all the War. When I arrived here and was made King, it remained in a position of honor within my House, though it was never drawn since that night. Once, shall I draw it."

With a metallic song, the sword slid from the sheath that Haldir had worn and the King Elessar lifted it high. "Behold! Eldarnar—Fire of the Elves!" Gently he looked down at her and smiled. "To thee, Enguina, I entrust this sword. The courage and might of your brother still shine within its blade; know that his sacrifice will never be forgotten as long as I shall live, and it shall be written in all of the books ever drafted what your people have done for the world of men. Know that your brother was loved, and is still, and that he remains in the heart of the King for all time."

Gently, he slid the sword into its sheath and placed it into her hands. She stared at it, unbelieving. She never had imagined it had survived everything that had happened; she never thought she would be holding it again. "In your hand take this sword and never forget what hope your brother has brought to those who had none. Bless thee, Enguina, sister of Haldir!" he said softly, touching her cheek, and in the manner of the old days, the King leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. "Plant thy mallorn in peace," he whispered, and when she raised her head, adoration was in her gaze and tears were on her face. As she turned toward the garden and fountain where the White Tree stood, the throng of people parted for her with honor, and she was grateful. It was the first time that she walked through a group of people alone since her arrival in Minas Tirith, and some even touched her in blessing as she passed, but all were silent. The King's voice echoed behind her throughout the courtyard.

"People of Gondor, remember those who fought and died for the freedom of Middle-Earth. Remember our own; remember our alliances with elves and men and dwarves. These alliances shall the Reunited Kingdom honor until the end of days, and may they forever stand as long as the honor of men may remain. Go in peace and dwell not on sorrow, but the hope that these brethren have left in our hearts. May you be blessed today by their sacrifice."

And so the ceremony to honor those who had passed on and those who remained behind ended with the words of the great King Elessar Telcontar. Many had been touched by his words, and many more would remember them and tell these stories to their children for many years to come. Stories of his great kindness and compassion would enter into the hearts of mortals until no more stories or legends could be written or told.

* * *

Enguina slowly moved through the garden, her mind lost in memory and thought of her brother and the terror that the Great War had brought among her family. She thought of Erumar, whom she had known for years, who had been so distraught by Haldir's death that she had locked herself away from the world and cried for days. Her grief was so great that even her children could not reach her. She thought of her own grief, compounded by the loss of her brother, and her realization that there was nothing else in Middle Earth that mattered to her more than peace of heart. There were so many families whose lives had been devastated by the War and the anger of Sauron and whose lives were also touched today for the soothing and honoring words of King Elessar…Aragorn…Arwen's husband.

There were so many things that he had said that had touched her heart, and each moment she knew that her heart was growing more involved with this City and its people. She remembered Legolas' comforting hand at her back, the way he had urged her forward, and the gentle touch of the people blessing her as she moved past them. And she would never forget what the King had said about her brother… _not ever_. For one man to have such love for another was powerful…and there was something about the love of _this_ man that made it even more so. She understood so completely what had reached Arwen's heart; _why_ she loved this man beyond an immortal life. She could see it now, when before she could not. Her brother had known the touch of one that loved him before he had passed, and that was at least some comfort.

This brought her thoughts back to Legolas. She was thinking of that comforting hand again; he must have seen the tears on her face. He was always very conscious of her, just as Arwen had said. They had spent the morning together, laughing, eating muffins, walking in the garden, and then he had reminded her about the ceremony. Legolas had appeared just as surprised as her when Aragorn had called her forward, so she knew that he had not known. But Arwen had also been right about Legolas being serious in his pursuit, just as he had told her; he was courting her in all but name.

She tightened her hand on the hilt of Eldarnar, feeling it was too big for her grip. Another tear slipped from her eyes and she closed them, picturing it the last time she had seen it on Haldir's belt. Haldir had always said to her that her hands were too delicate to wield a sword and so she would be better suited with bow and arrow. Eventually, after quite a few years of practice, she discovered that he was right—even though she hated to admit that to an older brother. Now, she wished she had. It was not as if she regretted time wasted, for she had certainly used the time with her brother well. They had enjoyed each other's company for hundreds of years and she would never forget those years. She only wished that he were around to see her continue her life…she wished she could have spoken to him of Bragolaur at some point, but she had never had the courage. He knew of what had happened of course, but Haldir was not always the easiest man to talk to, brother or not, and she had struggled with the sadness of what had happened to her for years. She did not know if there was a future here, if there could be, but Haldir would have approved of Legolas, surely…they had known one another.

And yet, it struck her as she walked, that as Eru closed one door in her life, he would soon open another, for just as she had grown tired and weary of the world without her brother and of her situation, she _had_ found joy and renewal again in the… _attentions_ of Legolas. She had surely thought her life in Middle-Earth was passed, and here, to her complete surprise, it had the opportunity to begin again.

She came upon the perfect place to plant the small but beautiful mallorn sapling and she knew it would grow tall, strong, and handsome as she had often told her brother he had. Leaning against the stone wall nearby, as if by some miracle, was a small shovel. After resting the sword and the sapling on the ground, she took it up. She dug slowly, reverently, knowing that here was the place her brother's tree would stand forever. When she knew it was deep enough, she there planted the tree in the fertile soil. Gently, she folded the sapling in the rich earth, kneeling next to it with Eldarnar across her lap. Yes, it was winter, but everything in Minas Tirith seemed to last on its own accord, and she was sure that it would do well here.

She looked at its golden leaves and its sturdy stature and she could almost see her brother's face in her mind. She thought of his strong features, his golden hair, and his bright blue eyes. Softly, she began to sing in her people's tongue:

 _Namárië, toron nîn,_

 _lissi moica fëa;_

 _si utuvalye este._

 _Hyeran vantalye si_

 _miya ú-naicë nwalyalye;_

 _mussë hyeran nalye varna._

 _Ilúvatar tuvua so;_

 _ce fëarya senda._

 _Nyare so ya melan so._

 _Haldir! A! Haldir!_

 _Lye senda meruvan_

 _var lye quildë quettar quenar._

 _Lye senda oi_

 _ante tuo nin;_

 _man si antuva nin senda?_

 _Lye huorë guina or,_

 _lye cal a lye tuo;_

 _lye mahta cole estel linana._

 _Iste sanwë nin na lye lyenev,_

 _a táruvan lye._

 _Namárië, melmë nîn mentan lye!_

[Farewell, my brother, a sweet gentle soul; may you now find rest. I pray you now walk where no hurt can torment thee; softly, I pray you are safe. Eru take him, make his soul at peace; tell him that I love him. Haldir! O! Haldir! Thy comfort will I miss and thy quiet words spoken. Thy comfort always gave me strength; who now will give me peace? May thy courage live on, thy light and thy strength; thy fight brought hope to many. Know my thoughts are near thee, and I will honor thee. Farewell! my love I send thee!]

"Namárië, toron nîn, I mela lye. Renuvan tuolya a melmëlya ninan. Ne seere, toron nîn, ne seere, [Farewell, my brother; I love thee. I will remember your strength and your love for me. Be at peace, my brother, be at peace,]" she spoke softly.

She rose and drew Eldarnar, studying the Elvish blade, hefting it in her hand. No, it simply was not right for her. "You were right, dear brother," she said softly. "This sword is not for me; a sword is not for me to bear, but it shall have a place of honor in my home and in my heart forevermore." She hesitated, still studying the sword. "Brother, would it be terribly wrong of me… _if_ I were to find someone I thought worthy…if I were to give your sword to them? Then, it would see defense as it once did in your mighty hand. Perhaps, if it was someone _very_ worthy…" She sighed.

"I will miss you," she said softly as she sheathed the sword, wiping the tears from her face. "I _do_ miss you terribly. I will never forget you, Haldir; I loved you."

Slowly, she turned from the tree, letting her brother finally sleep in peace.

* * *

"Do you think she is all right, Gimli?" Legolas asked, looking down on the gardens from his position on the wall. He leaned on his elbows, watching Enguina carefully planting the tree, knowing that she was grieving for her lost brother.

"I can't see her without Elven eyes or Elven height, you pointy-ear," the dwarf laughed in response, "but yes, I suppose the lass will be fine. Whenever you lose someone, it's hard, and she will be in that place for a while. But…she seems a young woman of good temper; I don't know how strong she is, but she'll pull through all right." He looked up at Legolas and whispered, "Ye've made a fine choice, my lad." He thought about the amusement they had together in the City yesterday, and then nodded again. "Yes, you made a good choice."

"Do you believe I should have stayed near her…to comfort her?" Legolas asked, looking urgently to the dwarf for some reassurance that he had made the right choice.

"No, no, give her some space, some time alone with her brother. He was a fine warrior if I do say so myself, after I got to know him. Alas, it was a sad day indeed when his passing came in the wee hours of that morn."

"Of course, Gimli…you are right. She _does_ need time to grieve—I should not horde her with comfort. If she needs it, she could come to me…yes?"

"Well…" began Gimli, "not necessarily, lad." Legolas seemed confused and looked down at Gimli.

"Then…should I go to her? If I see it in her face that she needs comfort, should I—"

"Well…" he started again, "not necessarily—"

"What? You _confuse_ me, Gimli!" he said in reply, exasperated and as he threw his hands into the air, he began to pace. "First, you tell me _not_ to go to her; when I suggest I should wait, you tell me otherwise. When I asked the third time, _again_ you give me different counsel!" He pointed his finger into the dwarf's face. "If this is a game you play on me, lousy dwarf, _I am not amused!_ "

The young elf's frustrated face made Gimli laugh and then he shook his head. "I don't play games with you, you pointed-eared Elvish princeling!" he laughed. "Women are hard books to read, and you have finally understood what it is to be bound to one!"

Legolas eyed him seriously. "Gimli…we are not bound in any way to each other."

"Well, then soon to be," the dwarf snorted loudly. "I've seen the way you look at each other. From an outsider's perspective you can clearly tell. You've confessed your love for her, right?"

"Well…no," Legolas admitted, "I felt it might be a bit more information than she is ready for. I…would not know what to say to her. She seems...a bit shy about such declarations. I am unsure she is ready."

"I thought you _knew_!" Gimli grumbled. "I thought you knew she was the one!"

"She _is_ ," Legolas said, his voice now soft. "I know _that_ , Gimli; I did not say _I_ was not ready. I do not need to think about it. Every moment I am with her, my feelings toward her become more powerful. _My_ feelings are not in question…hers are."

"And to think that I was all set to be best dwarf at the wedding."

"Gimli," chided Legolas, rolling his eyes, "I am not quite at that point if I have not even confessed my love yet! And what is this talk of 'best dwarf?' You will be the _only_ dwarf."

Gimli chortled with laughter. "I could set the stage," he said, raising his eyebrows up and then down. "Perhaps I could help you out a bit—"

" _No_ ," Legolas stressed, shaking his head. "I appreciate the kindness, but please, I am trying to be as careful as possible…subtle even. Your interference would almost certainly overstep my bounds." He did smile though. "I am very much, however, hoping she will consent to dance with me this evening. When Aragorn first told of a celebration, I could not help but think there might be dancing. Now that I have seen the floor for it with my own eyes, I am delighted that I will have the opportunity."

"Perhaps she'll consent to dance with _me_ as well!" Gimli chortled, and Legolas rolled his eyes. "Don't laugh! Some women might find me more attractive. Here, a wager," Gimli said slyly, "if Enguina dances with me at all, you must promise to declare your love for her within the next week."

"That is a terrible wager!" Legolas declared. "If I know anything about Guin, she will dance with you simply to have a good laugh! No, if she dances with you _first_ —"

"No, it won't do!" Gimli laughed. "If she dances with me _at all_ ; we are not such good friends as you think! How about she dances once with me at some point during the evening, and yet she stands up with no one else but you for the others. How is _that_ for a wager? If that happens, you must declare your love for her within the week."

"And if I do not?"

"You owe me lunch and your hard labor every day for a _month_. Agreed?"

Legolas looked at him hard, but thought honestly with himself. If Enguina danced every dance with him tonight, he was without a doubt going to be proclaiming his love for her within a few days. How was he going to prevent himself? "Deal, lousy dwarf."

"Excellent! Let's wait and see how the evening goes then!" he laughed. "And may the best dwarf win!"

* * *

Enguina slowly began her walk out of the quiet garden. She knew Aragorn's presentation of the statues was over and the people would begin to prepare for the celebration that was going to take place that night in the square on the fifth circle of the city. There would be food and drinking, and singing and dancing. If she were _very_ lucky, perhaps Legolas might ask to dance with her; though, the likelihood of him not asking was very slim. Legolas's attentions had been focused on her since she had arrived. She knew he was bound to ask…and she was almost certain to say yes. In so many ways, this was unlike her; she had not felt like dancing or singing for a great many years.

She heard footsteps not far off behind her, and they startled her out of thinking about Legolas. A flash of panic lit through her; she was alone, and if the steps were following her, she might be in danger. She quickened her pace, but they suddenly stopped. Her eyes widened in fear of something else, was someone disturbing the place where she had just been planting the sapling?

Turning, she hurried back along the path and came to a stop before the corner's end. She peered around and found Aragorn standing there with his head bowed. He wore now, no glorious armor and crown, but a simple navy tunic. Obviously, he had come looking for the tree, or for her, and had found it. Here, he looked crestfallen and his eyes showed the pain that he had felt for so long over the death of his friend.

He stood with head bowed for quite some time, and just as she was about to go to him, he lowered himself to one knee. She watched him for a moment more, still debating with herself whether go to him or let him be. She chose the latter, and she turned to leave again. Softly, behind her, she heard his song begin, and her feet were stilled in their place.

 _Namárië! Namárië; toron nîn, mellon nîn_

 _Kyeran go orë nîn ya aqua nelye._

 _Vane lúmemas ve I edainlaor;_

 _tyele lúme akkarato, toron nîn, mellon nîn._

 _Nelye huorë i rambanna ya lóme._

 _Lante liccotumor lúvatya ar macil-taura!_

 _Tuotya ar cánë ne pella vë;_

 _toron nîn, mellon nîn, meran nelye har._

 _Nyaren le ya caurë elye nayes orëesse nîn,_

 _na i melmë lean i altaména._

 _Tana nin moica nilmëtya ana utuva_

 _i tuo ya sire hyorëesse ninello._

 _Astaldo, nur, hyn nati cala alcarinqua,_

 _macar ar timo hyn ne yando le._

 _Ú-vantalye imbë i lohta-aldar,_

 _ú-varya macilmas yassen ilye urqui usa._

 _Laituva fintya lá vile. Nutuva quarëtya lá lúva._

 _Lantuva omatya lá lhaw. Ú-cenuva lalaithtya._

 _Cole Cassar Balë, caituvalye si;_

 _er linuva apairëtya orëesse nîn ilye rér nîn._

 _Harye ilya sana nuin aldar Lórienesse_

 _pela terë ore nîn ve nyeran nyérënna nîn._

 _An ú-lantuvalye i lantarambanna,_

 _túlelye ana ú-na nin ar ú-hlarelye orë-yello nîn._

 _Nyera orë nîn, ar na i búlënyérë,_

 _an toron nîn, mellon nîn, losta dín._

 _Toron nîn, mellon nîn, hlara hyermë nîn si:_

 _haryuvalye envinyata ar nuva tuo en._

 _Envantuva i firn ar telduva sanwë;_

 _ú-caita morniëesse, harya sérë an aute lóme!_

 _Namárië! Namárië, Ilúvataro anna fëa._

 _Toron Eldarinwa, toron nîn, mellon Haldir—în nîn!_

[Farewell, farewell, my brother, my friend. I pray with my heart that thou were content. Time passed by as the years of men; too soon (did) time end, my brother, my friend. Brave thou stood upon the wall that night. Many foes fell by thy bow and sword-might! Thy strength and valor were beyond compare; my brother, my friend, I wish thou were near. I would tell thee that fear though it be in my heart, the love for thee is the greatest part. Thy gentle friendship led me to find the strength that flowed in this heart of mine. Valiance, devotion, these traits shine brightly, swordsman and guard these also were thee. You shall not walk among the flowering trees, nor protect by sword which all orc flee. Thy hair no breeze will bless. Thy hand no bow shall string. Thy voice shall grace no ear. Thy smile shall not be seen. Helm's Deep has claimed, thee here now shall lay; but thy victr'y shall sing in my heart all my days. Each moment we spent under trees in Lórien runs through my mind as I grieve on my sin. For thou would not have fallen on the fallen wall, if thou came to help me not and thou heard not my heart-call. My heart does grieve, and the grief is deep, for my brother, my friend, silently sleeps. My brother, my friend, hear now my prayer: thou shall have healing and strength will be there. The dead shall walk again and memory shall last; do not lie in darkness, have peace for night is past! Farewell! Farewell, Eru's gift in a soul. Elven brother, my brother, friend Haldir—my own!]

Enguina's heart broke with the anguish that was held within that strong tenor voice. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she felt her feet carrying her back to the place where the King knelt. When he heard her steps on the grass he stood. Gently, she placed a hand on his shoulders, but he did not turn to her. She could see the tears on his face as he had wept for her fallen brother. For him to sing such words the bond between them must have been very close…more close than she had ever realized.

"Your heart speaks to mine, King of Gondor, and your grief as well. For it may be that your grief is more terrible than mine, for your heart is burdened with the pain of guilt while mine lies in the light of good times with my brother. Do not grieve, Aragorn…Haldir would not want you to feel so much pain at the loss of his life. He did not fall because of _you_ …or because your love for him failed. Perhaps it was his time, to give his life so that others might live more fully.

"Haldir's spirit lives within you, as it does in me. Just as you spoke those words today, Aragorn, I know that they blessed my heart. Your hand, your voice, your gifts have brought healing to my heart…can my words do naught for you?"

There was silence for a few moments, and then he rose to his feet, turning about to face her. "No, my Lady…do not grieve yourself for me. My heart is burdened with much that may or may not have been fault of my own, but more things must a person such as I bear on my conscience." His eyes met hers and they were sad. "I would not have him think less of me for grieving for his loss, but sometimes, late into the watches of the night, I see his parting over and over again…" His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed, closing his eyes, "as is my way with those I have loved and lost. I see him on the wall looking down at me, answering my call, and in the next moment his eyes are filled with pain. I called his name, and in that moment I knew that he would never answer again.

"When I finally arrived at his side, I only caught him when he fell…and I was too late. Already, when I laid him back in my arms, he had passed. I could do naught but lay a hand on his heart in peace, praying that Eru would kindly receive him and that he would suffer no more. I had no choice but to fight on."

"But that is the way my brother would have wished it, Aragorn. Do not trouble yourself for Haldir, for he was happy in the last years of his life and peaceful in death. When he went from Lothlórien those many years ago, he was content. He _knew_ what he was doing, Aragorn. His sacrifice was well made. He loved you—"

Aragorn smiled ruefully. "Yet…that seems to be the heart of the matter, Enguina. It is some sort of curse for a person to love me! Each one either comes to great pain or passes before their time—"

"All must meet their end in some way, Aragorn," she said softly, meeting his eyes. "If Haldir was going to die, he would sooner have given his life for a cause or someone he cared for. The bond between you both was much greater than ever I knew…and who are you to know each one's time? You must not take all this grief upon yourself!" she said seriously. "These people you speak of…they choose you because they love you!"

"Such things have been said to me before, under different circumstances and in time of war, Enguina. I have seen them all my life," he said sadly. "So many have fallen, and they have all died for me." His eyes reflected the sorrow that ripped through his heart. "Never have I felt worthy of their sacrifice, though I am told so often."

"Not worthy?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. " _Not worthy?_ You, the man whose fierce heart led him into battle against some of the most dangerous men and beasts all of his life; the man who would lay down his life for a comrade, who would brave any sort of danger to protect the woman he loved, who would reach out his hand of healing to a _stranger_ if it meant hope to them…and you think yourself _unworthy_!" She gave a hoarse laugh as sudden tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh, dear Ilúvatar, what deeds, in heaven's name, need a man do to prove his worth!" She turned from him, shaking her head. "How… _how_ after all you have done, can you _still_ find yourself unworthy of the sacrifice of those who laid their lives at your feet?" She crossed her arms and faced him again.

"Each person loves you in their own way, Aragorn! Each one meets you and loves you, for both your character and the greatness that is within you. Éowyn told me she wished to ride with you to the Paths of the Dead for she did not want you to meet your end alone, and she feared for your safety. She loved the very _idea_ of you…though she loved you as well! Her brother, she told me, loved you since he met you on the fields of Rohan when you came out of the very shadows of the stones! Legolas loved you since you were but a child and Arwen…how does one even _speak_ of the love _she_ holds for you? There are many who would die to preserve the life they love best, and you _are_ that life, Aragorn! Do not wish that things were different, for it is your heart," she said placing her hand on his chest, "that makes you this man that anyone would die to protect!

Her eyes were serious. "I barely knew you a week ago, Aragorn," she said softly, "and if I had not met you and I had only continued to hear the rumors of your deeds, your love for Middle-Earth, your love for my friend, my brother, your friends who love you…I would _have_ to have believed them and loved you well only on hearsay. But now," she shook her head, "after hearing your words and learning of you and coming to see your kindness, I know why these people defend you until their last breath. Given an opportunity…I would, too.

"No longer grieve for the passing of my brother, Aragorn. He would have thought you a worthy friend and a wonderful King," her voice grew soft. "And he would bless you a thousand times for the care you have shown his sister and the Evenstar." She could see how moved he was by the words she had spoken.

He looked at her gently, and bowed his head. "If his sister requires anything else that is within my power, it will be hers. Thank you for your words."

"Sometimes," she replied, "we need to be reminded of how special we truly are. But again, I say do not let your heart be grieved any longer. Let today rest, and let the night be full of this celebration you have planned before us."

"As you wish, Lady," he agreed, and she smiled at him. The two of them left the garden of the White Tree together.


	13. Chapter 13

The festival was becoming quite a joyous occasion. High, well-lit torches surrounded the square where a small band played and couples and children danced joyously to the music. Food was spread out on tables where all were welcome. The celebration was quite large; it seemed as though the whole City had turned out for the celebration. Arwen was getting a lot of attention from various citizens, for even at six months with child, she was one of the best dancers present. She knew many of their dances, as Aragorn had taught her several previous to the occasion, and as there had not been many celebrations recently, it was a rare pleasure. At present, Aragorn was trading stories with Faramir, though all the while his eyes rested on the vision of his wife floating about the dance floor. Faramir had laughed at him, and that finally caught his attention.

"Why do you not ask her to dance already? I am certain you would make the finest couple on the street!" laughed Faramir, placing an arm about Éowyn's waist. She bounced their little girl on her hip to the music as they both watched the dancers. Aragorn smiled, but shook his head.

"What kind of a man would I be to steal her away from her many admirers? Nay, Faramir, let her dance. If I called her now, I should not like to release her." He smiled slowly. "It is less often that I have the pleasure to watch her. She is so graceful!"

"She is an elf; she cannot be anything but, even so pregnant!" Faramir laughed again. "Elves are graceful no matter what; if it were possible for them to fall over, they would _still_ fall gracefully! But if you will choose not to dance, then I, the most ungraceful dancer to ever go out to such a floor, must!" He turned to his wife, and extended his hand. "Éowyn, dear, would you permit me to dance with you?" She laughed.

"What kind of question is that? That does not sound like _my_ husband!"

"Dance with me, woman!" he laughed, and she nodded.

"That is much better," she replied as Aragorn grinned. "But who will hold Andúnêiel while we dance, love?"

Aragorn extended his arms. "Here, let me take her. I shall be responsible for the little one; I shall have my own soon enough, thank Ilúvatar."

"Thank you, Aragorn." Éowyn gently placed her in Aragorn's arms and kissed her forehead. She took Faramir's arm, and he led her out to the floor. Aragorn laughed as he watched them, but not because Faramir was a horrible dancer, for he was actually quite good. He laughed because they made quite a couple on the dance floor, and once again he was filled with joy at their happiness.

"Do you see your mother and father, little one?" he asked Annî, and she turned in his arms to look, pointing.

"Daddy!" she called, waving her hand. She grinned suddenly, "Mommy!"

He had never heard her call Éowyn 'mommy;' he could not help but grin. "They love each other very much…and they love you as well." He kissed Annî's forehead, and she giggled. He assumed she liked the feel of his beard, so he did it again. She laughed in response, and tried to grab his nose with one small hand. He laughed aloud and pulled his face back, bouncing her gently in his arms.

"Accepting children in place of the wife, are you?" asked Legolas as he stepped near.

Aragorn smiled widely at him. "Is she not one of the most adorable things you have ever seen? And nay; Faramir wanted a dance; how could I refuse such dear friends? Still, it is not often I am allowed to hold the children, so I must take the chance as often as I can!"

Legolas laughed in reply, and smoothed her soft hair. "She _is_ quite adorable, I agree." Then, he smiled at the man. "But you shall have your own soon, and then you will have the chance whenever you desire to hold her. I cannot wait to see the little one you will have. You have been waiting for so long…and the Elves have been waiting for a child of the Evenstar for longer than you have been alive."

Aragorn laughed, and rocked the little girl in his arms. "I cannot wait either, Legolas. I cannot wait to hold her in my arms or play games with him." He sighed and looked at the elf. "O, three months more; must I be forced to endure the waiting? It seems intolerable!"

"Yet it does not seem to hinder Arwen." Legolas nodded to the floor. "She is as beautiful as ever. If anything, she is _more_ beautiful; being with child does seem to bring out a certain light in a woman, does it not?"

"Indeed," sighed Aragorn, his eyes fixed on her again. "Indeed, Legolas…" Suddenly, he turned to the elf. "Here you are, speaking of beautiful women…yet where is Enguina? I did not believe you would be without her at your side…or the other way around."

Legolas smiled. "She was. I left her to speak with Gimli…and I wanted to speak to you."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at him. "Was that wise, friend? Gimli is eloquent when it comes to Elvish women…he may yet steal her from you."

"Yes, I fully remember Galadriel, and I introduced them well enough days ago; I had thought Lothlórien would be an adequate topic of conversation between them both as they stand alone." He nodded in their direction. "Look, Aragorn! There they are. Is she not a vision tonight?"

Aragorn's eyes found the elf and dwarf standing across the square, and they seemed to be sharing an amusing tale of some-sort. Enguina was dressed in a radiant Elvish gown, a green that surely matched her eyes. It showed off her slender figure, and he had to agree that she certainly was a vision. "Indeed, Legolas…there are no words to describe her true beauty. You have chosen well, friend," Aragorn agreed, and then he turned to look at Legolas, bouncing Annî in his arms again.

"Aragorn, your words at the ceremony today moved many hearts," he replied softly. "I wanted to thank you for reaching out to Enguina that way. She _is_ very special to me…but seeing her this happy warms my heart. She is not easy to draw out, but once she is warm she fills a room." He smiled. "I do not yet know what may come of my…" he hesitated, unsure what to call it, "my _courting_ her…I can only hope for a love as lasting and to be treasured as yours."

"Your heart could not have been better placed. She is as wonderful as you, and will be a great companion and love. I have no doubt," he said softly, "that you shall make a very happy pair. Seeing you coming into the House just the other evening covered with snow was enough to warm my heart. She will take good care of you."

Legolas laughed. "And I of her, but do I need so much care?"

"Perhaps not, but as Éowyn says—"

"'Behind every strong man is an equally strong woman,'" he laughed. "Yes, she has often said that of Faramir and herself. It never ceases to amaze me when I am reminded of how she used to be, cold and aloof, and how joyous and openhearted she is now. She says those words of you as well, friend."

"And she could not be more correct," he replied, looking out at Arwen again.

"I wonder if you are thinking, 'shall I ever get a dance with that untamed wife of mine'?"

Aragorn laughed heartily. "If not now, perhaps later. One can dance to music they sing themselves, you know." Legolas smiled and nodded. Aragorn felt a tug on his hair, and he looked down. Legolas followed his gaze and he laughed.

"Look at her! She is sound asleep and _still_ pulling your hair! You have a way of calming things, Aragorn…hopefully it will work as well with your own children!"

Aragorn nodded, but he dared not move to take his hair from her little hand for fear that he would wake her. Legolas grinned as he saw Aragorn grimace and tilt his head to relieve the pressure as the child pulled the strands into her mouth.

"I most certainly hope that is clean," he joked and Aragorn shot him a dirty look.

"That was most unkind." Legolas laughed with his whole heart.

"Aragorn, I only fear for the child's health!" The man rolled his eyes and Legolas smiled at him. "I think I shall ask the musicians if they know any Elvish tunes. Perhaps by the time they play it, you shall have Arwen for a dance? It would be nice to see you out on the floor. I have a most interesting bet with Gimli; If Enguina consents, perhaps I shall dance with her as well."

"I do not doubt that she will say yes," he replied with a smile. "The only trouble with dancing with Arwen is that once I begin, I have a difficult time stopping. It is the reason I tend to wait until the evening is meeting its close. But…I will definitely look forward to seeing you and Enguina within the crowd of dancers."

"I will see you later, friend." Legolas moved off into the crowd of people and headed over to where the minstrels played, leaving Aragorn alone with a sleeping child…and a few less strands of hair.

* * *

Belegore was seated on a bench near one of the tables. He listened to the laughter from Dagnirhir and realized once again that the man was drunk; he had a _serious_ drinking problem. The difficulty was that Belegore was afraid he would speak something that he should not, even _do_ something he should not. Not only would Calendur be positively furious, but also Dagnirhir could seriously get them all killed. Dagnirhir was the one of the lot of men that followed Calendur that he disliked the most. If anything, Belegore did not like his behavior in general, but most especially, Dagnirhir treated women with disrespect and that drove him mad. He did not like the way Dagnirhir behaved after keeping an eye on the Lady Enguina or on the Queen; some of the comments embarrassed him, while _all_ of them disgusted him. He would hate to see what would happen if either of them ever met him in a dark alley after nightfall.

This past week, Belegore had really been enjoying himself at the stables. He had also done what Calendur had wanted; he spoke to his grandfather, and finally convinced him to tell his secret of the statues. Consequently, Calendur had been working on the plan for most of the week and was supposed to let them know of their moves this evening; _were_ they moving tonight? Belegore himself was keeping a steady, trained eye on Enguina, for that was his duty at the moment. He had, however, found much joy in what the King himself had hired him to do. The horses at the stable had grown to like him and he enjoyed taking care of them, enjoyed the work, and enjoyed the people. After that first incident with the King in the stable he had not seen the man again…and he was glad of it. He did not like to question his loyalties, and the things the King had spoken were far too thought consuming. He liked things simple (even though he was very smart, as his father told him), and blocking the King's conversation from his mind made everything so much easier.

So as he watched Enguina, he monitored Dagnirhir's conversation while enjoying the party himself. Personally, he had thought since things were going rather well he did not have to worry and he thought that he could have a nice, relaxing evening. There were many graceful dancers, but he had to admit to himself that not one of them compared to the Queen of Gondor, and none compared to her beauty. He watched her dance about the street with his old grandfather, Cirgon, and thought she was quite lovely. Though she was an elf, he had never seen any woman dance quite so elegantly, and he truly debated with himself if he had the courage to ask her for a dance.

 _What?_ He nearly hit himself. Surely, he must be losing his own mind! If Calendur ever knew that he had thought of such a thing, he would be cast out from their group—or killed. The woman would be dead in a week or so…how could he even be thinking of dancing with her when he was part of the plan that would make certain Gondor would be rid of her and the heir? But from this nearness, so close that her dress nearly brushed his legs when Cirgon spun her by, she did not seem like someone he wished to destroy…someone that—

"Belegore…" whispered a voice behind him, and he turned abruptly. He knew it was Ahadil, and the man smiled at him.

"What is it?"

"She's pretty nice-looking isn't she?"

" _Nice-looking?_ " Belegore raised his eyebrows and snorted. "Yes…she is 'nice-looking.'"

Ahadil laughed. "Won't matter soon anyhow," he replied with a grin. "I just spoke with Calendur," he said, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "He says that we are moving tonight." Belegore frowned deeply, for he was surprised.

"Tonight? Why tonight? It is a _celebration_ for heaven's sake! There are too many people; tell Calendur to wait another evening."

"He said _tonight_ , Belegore. I'm not goin' and tellin' 'im that you said—"

"But Dagnirhir is already drunk!" Belegore grimaced, and gestured with his hand in the man's general direction. "He shall be even _more_ useless later."

"Dagnirhir has stopped drinking now, as you would've noticed had you been payin' attention to him and not the Queen." Belegore's eyes darkened.

"Silence, Ahadil…or I shall make you regret you uttered a word." Ahadil laughed and Belegore's scowl deepened. "I will speak to Calendur. It is utter foolishness to act tonight. There are too many people. We will _never_ get past them with an unconscious elf."

"Fine, it's your neck."

"Exactly. Now, shut your trap before others notice us." Ahadil shrugged and moved away, leaving Belegore seated alone at the table once more. He sighed again, and then returned his attention to the Queen once more. The young man watched as she danced. Too much was already in motion now even if he were to change his mind. He thought that perhaps it would be the last time he would see such beauty; whether it be by her death…or his own.

* * *

Legolas had left Gimli and Enguina with naught but an 'I am off to see Aragorn.' Needless to say, Gimli found himself at a loss for words, and at the moment, Enguina could think of nothing intelligent to say to the dwarf. These things should not be so difficult, or so both of them thought, for they did have one common subject: Legolas. So, deciding to brave the waters as he thought it was the man's job to do, Gimli ventured forth once again. He had made progress working on the wall, and he had made progress today, but he was not truly her friend…and he wanted to be. If she going to be with Legolas all the time, they had better come to know one another much better than they did.

"So…Enguina," Gimli said, turning to her, "have you been enjoying your time here in Minas Tirith? It's a nice place to visit, isn't it?"

She smiled at him. "Yes, it is. I cannot ever imagine living here, in walls of stone, but it is very beautiful. I think that perhaps it is the people that make it what it is."

"Too true," Gimli agreed. "Legolas has been keeping you good company the last week you've been here. I was glad to see you were getting along."

"Legolas has been very good to me," she said, her voice softer. "He has been a guide and friend these past few days."

Gimli laughed. "Legolas is a good, pointy-eared, Elvish princeling. Certainly, when I was in Rivendell, I treated Master Elrond with respect for I was a guest in his home, but at the time, I didn't fancy elves in the least. Legolas was the first elf I ever met that I developed respect for. It took some time, but he and I…well, we became friends."

"Would you tell me your story, Gimli?" she asked suddenly, turning to him. "Legolas spoke too little of it for my liking, and I desire to know how an elf and a dwarf became such close companions." Gimli grinned at her.

"I'd be delighted to relate the story to you, Lady Enguina. In the beginning, we didn't get along at all! I thought him rather condescending and that he felt he was rather above me. I behaved ridiculously at first; we had the most peculiar arguments that mostly cost us rather sleepless nights wondering when the other would try something mad and irritating. And these arguments were _never_ solved. It was more cost to me than him," he admitted, "but that was before we reached Lothlórien."

"Legolas told me that you were rather at odds at first. But _he_ spoke also of this change when you reached Lothlórien. Why did such occur?"

"Well…there were many reasons," Gimli admitted. "The first was your brother, Haldir; he said that we could not pass any further beyond a certain point that was already quite far into the woods. You see, since Aragorn had been there before, he knew his way about, and we were far into the Wood before we were discovered. Aragorn spent a long time talking to Haldir that evening in a language that none of us but Legolas could understand. During that time, we spoke about the woods, but we didn't discuss things too much. We were still unsure of where the other stood, because both of us had been at odds so much before.

"When we had to travel through the Wood, Haldir said my eyes had to be bound. We had quite a bicker between us until Aragorn said that all our eyes would be bound so that I was not singled out. It was sort of ridiculous, but the elves led us well, and I remember Legolas grumbling about how unfair it was that he should not be able to see the trees. I'd thought it amusing at first, but before our time in Lothlórien was over, I understood him quite better. He had such a love for the trees, and there was something about him that made me feel like it was all right to trust him…and also that trees weren't such bad things after all," he added with a smirk.

"We spent many hours talking under the trees and walking around near them. Eventually, Legolas taught me to climb one," at this he burst out laughing, and she could not help but do so as well. "It was the funniest thing I'd ever done! I looked so ridiculous, and I never forgot how to climb one, though I wouldn't do it now again unless there was dire need. It was here that Aragorn, Legolas, and I became pretty close," and he nodded at her, "and also your brother."

She looked surprised. "You became good friends with _Haldir_?" She remembered her brother well, and that was _quite_ unlike him. "I know you said the other morning that you knew him, but…his friend?"

"Yes," he agreed, nodding. "We completely despised each other at first, and I'd said something quite nasty to him that I know he didn't understand that I still felt the need to apologize for. I won't tell you what it was, for I still regret it to this day even though it is forgiven. But enough of that! I shot his bow once, and it was completely off target!" he laughed and she did as well. "Legolas taught me a little more, and I actually hit the tree, but it was far from what I had aimed at. It is certainly much easier to throw an axe for a dwarf!

"I believe the thing we agreed upon most was the Lady of the Golden Wood."

"The Lady Galadriel? And why was that, Gimli?"

A far-away look came to his eyes as he spoke. "I thought she was the fairest thing in all the earth," he began softly. "Every time I'd see her, I grew speechless, for she knew what was in my heart. She read me like a scroll and she amazed me ceaselessly. She was powerful and beautiful…and she could sing like no other. When she extended gifts to the Fellowship for their journey ahead, she asked me, what she could give me. I was so embarrassed, and I could not gather my courage to say what I truly wanted…so I told her 'Nothing…but to look upon the Lady of the Galadhrim one last time, for she is more fair than all the jewels beneath the earth. It is enough for me to have seen her and heard her gentle words.'"

Enguina laughed. "Did you truly say that to her, Gimli?"

"Truly, Lady…I did."

"Never more shall I say that dwarves are not eloquent in speech! Legolas warned me of that just this morning. She must have been very moved by your words."

"She said so herself!" he laughed. "But then she said there must be something that she could grant me. And finally, I stammered out that if it might be permitted to ask for a single strand of her hair, for it surpassed all the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems in the mine. I told her that I'd treasure it and make it an heirloom of my house to be set in imperishable crystal as a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of all days." He smiled.

Enguina looked on him in wonder. "She could not have granted such a request!"

His eyes filled with some untold love. "She gave me three…" Enguina smiled. "I still carry them with me at all times, for my house has not yet been established in the Glittering Caves of Helm's Deep. But when it will be, I shall make certain that crystal is found. When Legolas and I set out in our boat from the Golden Wood, I had said that it was a bitter parting, for I had looked last upon that which was fairest, and that I would call nothing fair ever again unless it be her gift to me. I knew Legolas and I would be very close when he did not laugh at my words. He truly understood them."

Enguina laughed, surprised at her own emotions. "Gimli! Any such friend of Legolas, my brother, and the Lady Galadriel is a friend of mine. A blessing upon you who are so highly favored!" She turned and kissed his brow with joy just as Legolas appeared from the crowd. Gimli stared dumbstruck at her as she turned to greet the elf who also stared at them. "Gimli and I were just speaking of Lothlórien!" she said, reaching out and touching Legolas's arm and startling him back into real life. "It appears he has many fond memories in that place of you and of the Lady."

Her delight infectious, Legolas smiled at her, and then it widened even more when he turned to Gimli. "Yes, Gimli and I have fond memories of the Golden Wood!" He nearly laughed at his friend's face, but Gimli smiled widely at Legolas in return. Then, he winked at the elf, and burst into laughter.

"Can I get either one of you an ale?" Gimli asked, rubbing his hands together. Legolas grinned, but shook his head.

"No, thank you, Gimli," Enguina said, eyeing her own fingers on Legolas's arm. They still were there, even as Gimli shrugged; Legolas's eyes caught her hand still there as well, and he reached over with his other hand and covered her fingers.

"Guin, I was wondering…" he began, and when she lifted her eyes to look at him, his voice got lost in the sight of them. The way her eyelashes fell across her green eyes stunned him momentarily; the way her chin rose to look at him, exposing her beautiful throat about which lay a simple golden chain; the way her fingers tightened on his arm; the way—

Her soft laugh flooded his ears. " _Yes_ , Legolas?"

Without blushing, though she did, he tilted his head, trying to shake off his momentary weakness. "Would you like to dance with me?"

She got lost in his blue eyes for a moment. She could not have uttered a 'no' even if she had tried to convince herself. "If your friend will give me leave…?"

Gimli chuckled, and both of them were startled enough to look at him. He waved his hand, completely willing to embarrass Legolas this time as he said, "Aye, Lady, _please_ …he has been talking of _nothing_ but a dance with you all day and has been waiting all evening!" If he had ever seen Legolas blush, this blush was darker and the look the elf gave him…well, if looks could kill… "I'll see you both later!" he shouted, winking and waving as he walked away.

Legolas sighed. "I do not—"

"It is…fine," she said softly, looking up into his face. "Fine." Enguina smiled, blushing herself. "I would be more than happy to dance with you. I…should probably admit that it has been a very long time."

"Yes," he said with a nod, "for me as well." He took her hand and led her out onto the floor just as the next song was beginning. Legolas was glad they were not alone on the floor; he noticed Faramir and Éowyn dancing together and several others. He hoped that Enguina would not notice, however, that most of the eyes of the people were on _them_ , not on anyone else. As they took their positions, she did not appear to acknowledge them; in fact, it appeared that she was only paying attention to him.

Not only was the music beautiful, but the dance itself had flowing movements and spins. Oddly enough, even though neither one had danced in so long, they both remembered exactly what to do. All attention and eyes, even Aragorn's, were upon the floor, and there was much exclamation of beauty as they moved about the cobblestone street. When the dance had ended, there was much shouting and applause.

Another dance began shortly after, and Legolas looked down into Enguina's eyes even as they simply began to dance again. "Are you willing to dance with me again, Lady?"

"You are an excellent dancer," she said, studying him. His face was _so_ close. She had never, in all her many years, seen anyone who she thought was more handsome; he had a heart of precious gold; the elf who had her in his arms was kind and generous, a man of great worth, of goodness. He cared for her; it was so clear. This close, his eyes were the color of the seas, and she could hardly draw hers from them.

"May I…may I ask to compliment you?" he said, and she smiled, blushing.

"You may."

"May I compliment you?"

" _Legolas_ ," she sighed, rolling her eyes and blushing again. He laughed softly.

"Under the stars here tonight, under the lights of this City, you seem so full of joy," he told her, and his voice was serious. "I can see the stars in your eyes," he whispered. "I am very glad you are enjoying yourself."

He spun her slowly away from him, and when he drew her back to his arms, she met his eyes. Their faces were a bit too close, but she found herself not uncomfortable being this close to him. If anything, she felt… _safe_ , secure in his arms, the way his hand settled on her waist, his hand in hers. It felt right.

She opened her mouth to respond, to try and think of something intelligent to say, but he spoke instead. "May I ask you something else?" She nodded. "Tomorrow, will you walk with me again in the City? I promised Gimli I would be at the wall, but the afternoon…"

"Might I help with the wall as well?" she asked softly, and he smiled.

"Of course. I know Gimli would be glad of the help," he stated, and then laughed again, "although, it depends on how much ale he consumes tonight if he and his fellow dwarves will be able to work tomorrow morning at all."

"Do these affairs last late into the night?"

"Usually," he said, smiling, "especially the dancing."

"I…" she heard herself saying, "am glad to hear that."

In the deepest part of her heart, she prayed the night would never end.

* * *

It was dark now in the tavern on the fourth level where Belegore found Calendur sitting at a table in the back. The _Crowned Cockerel_ had a bartender that stayed awake late into the morning, did not fuss about his patronage, and never asked questions. Belegore had enough ale at the celebration, and therefore ordered nothing as he sat down.

"Is there a reason you are _here_ , Belegore," Calendur asked in an interested voice, spinning his mug slowly in a circle, "and not watching the girl as you were assigned?"

"I came to speak with you," Belegore said softly. "I think going after the girl tonight is not a well-thought out plan."

"You think that you have better ideas?" asked Calendur, leaning forward on the edge of the table. Belegore could see his menacing eyes, and though they unnerved him, he knew that he could do better than this plot.

"Calendur, there are too many people. Men like Ahadil and Dagnirhir make too much noise as it is. Dagnirhir is drunk already. If we were to enact the plan and try to get her alone, I know we would be found out before we even got her past the fifth level. But I think I may have discovered an opportune time, a time that would give us a chance to escape with her and prolong our chances of discovery."

"I think you overstep your bounds," the elf said dangerously.

"Please," the man said, frowning, "if you will hear me, you will see that my idea is much easier. You wished the event to take place in the stable, but tonight is not a good evening; it is already late and the King will ride in the morning, he always does—"

"Yes, always, so what—"

" _Except_ Sunday," Belegore stated. "Sunday, the King will go to the service at the temple. Now, you wish the thieving of the girl to take place in the stable, but the King is very close to the horses; he speaks to them as though they were people. Instead, here is what I propose. Saturday evening, two days hence, before I leave my nightly duties, let me give the horses a special toxin that will cause them to sleep. This will ensure our secret until mid-morning at least by the time they realize she is not there and then tie her whereabouts to the stable. By this time, we shall be nearly twelve hours ahead of them, if not longer. They will come after her, and the Queen will be left here."

Calendur eyed him. "How will we get her to the stable?"

"Leave that to me," Belegore said intently. "She has seen me numerous times in the stable all week and I have spoken with her and the Prince several times. I think I can get her to come with me easily enough."

Calendur seemed to go over the plan in his head numerous times. "I was beginning to worry that we might not be able to provide the distraction I had hoped, but the logic of your plan seems very sound. Are you certain that you might be able to buy us some time by drugging the horses?"

"Positive," Belegore agreed.

"Then my brother could act when we are as far from Minas Tirith as possible. The King's distraction must be fairly complete and they must be very worried for her safety, otherwise, they will never leave the Queen as unprotected as we shall need. We are at peace, and their security has grown weak in many places. With your attention to these details, we might be able to make this entire plan succeed." He gave Belegore a smile. "Good work, Belegore. We will carry out your plan."

* * *

"Did you see her tonight, Gimli! Did you see _us_?" cried Legolas as he fell onto his back on Gimli's bed. His eyes appeared to be fixed on the intricate ceiling, but they were filled with wonder and starlight. His mind was filled with images of Enguina's spinning form, and his arms still felt as if she were within them. The dwarf laughed at the sight of the elf sprawled upon his bed as he came into the room in due time.

"Yes, yes…I _saw_ you, mad Elf, as did everyone else! At least you didn't make a bloomin' fool out of yourself!" he said as he tossed himself down into a chair and began yanking off his boots.

"Me?" Legolas cried indignantly, sitting suddenly upright. " _You_ were the one who told Guin I had been talking of asking her for a dance _all day_. It was _you_ who nearly made a fool out of me. I daresay that _you_ , Gimli the Dwarf, were indeed the life of this party!"

" _HA_!" said Gimli. "I only danced—"

"Is that not the point?" Legolas asked, his eyes sparkling as he met Gimli's. "I never knew that you could dance, Gimli! You never spoke of it before!"

"I never had any need!" he snorted in reply. "Though I must say that I _am_ a rather good dancer…for a dwarf."

"Indeed! I was completely uncontrolled when you danced with Guin!"

Gimli laughed, "Yes! I'll bet we were quite a sight!"

"I recall her words when it was over, 'I do not believe I have ever laughed so hard in all of my life!' I had no idea that you had become such good friends in so short a time, though it brings overwhelming joy to my heart."

"Neither had I, until she kissed me. And let me tell you, a kiss from an elf isn't to be taken lightly. I believe that was the third I have ever received!"

Legolas shook his head and rested his chin on his hand. "Yes, you have received a kiss from the fairest of the fair. Jealousy takes my heart."

Gimli roared with laughter, slapping his knee. "You're too much, lad! You can't tell me that you haven't kissed the girl yet!" Legolas only stared at him; this would not have mattered much to the dwarf except that Legolas was not laughing. Gimli's eyes grew round. "Honestly! _You have not kissed her_?"

"Gimli," Legolas said softly, "are we looking at the same woman? When I first met her, I cautioned you about her heart; she has some troubled past…I do not wish to rush her." He looked away from the dwarf's eyes, growing a bit embarrassed.

"But…" the dwarf stuttered, "you're in love with her!"

"Surely, I know it," Legolas said miserably. "But how can I…how can I make a move when she is so shy? Sometimes she is wary of my touch—"

"She wasn't tonight! How many times did you have your arms around her tonight? And your face was a matter of _inches_ from hers! Come on, laddy!"

Legolas shook his head. "How could I, Gimli? All those people!"

Gimli shook his head. "Well, you made me a bet, elf. You said you'd declare your undying love for her before the week was out. She stood up only with you the entire night except the dance with me. You'd better get a speech prepared…and perhaps a sonnet or two."

He rolled his eyes. "Perhaps I would prefer to do heavy labor the rest of the month."

"Fine with me! Either way, I benefit!" he laughed.

"Guin asked if she could join us on the wall in the morning. I think she enjoys your company more than you think," Legolas pointed out.

Gimli sighed. "I like having her there, but she's a distraction to you, lad. You keep staring at her the whole time you're there! If she doesn't know you're desperately in love with her by now, she hasn't got eyes!"

"She is denying it, I think," Legolas said thoughtfully. "She only sees what she wishes to see. She enjoys my attention; she is beginning to welcome it, but she denies that I feel anything towards her other than the attention of a man who is becoming a good friend." He turned his head toward Gimli and sighed. "I want so much more. How long should I wait her out?"

"How much do you love her?" he asked seriously.

Legolas raised his eyebrows. "Honestly?"

"Then does it matter? How about forever? I mean, you're going to live forever, right? So I suppose it doesn't matter how long you've got to wait."

"It is not about how long I have to wait," Legolas said. "It is about how long I _should_ wait before I should tell her how I feel. I do not wish to frighten her, but it is difficult knowing what my feelings and not acting upon them."

"Give it another day or two…see what happens," the dwarf encouraged. "She's not going to run far if she runs; you couldn't see her face tonight as she danced with you." He raised his eyebrows up and down. "If you had expressed your true feelings for her right there on the dance floor, she probably would have just nodded!" He laughed.

Legolas smiled. "We were pretty…lost in each other tonight," he admitted. "I just…I do not want to make any foolish decisions and scare her away."

"Legolas, she'd have to be daft to be afraid of _you_!"


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: The song in this chapter is titled, "I Need You," by Plumb. I do not own it, nor did I write it. But the words are perfect for one of the scenes below.

* * *

It was morning at the King's House, and Arwen sat at the breakfast table cupping her hands around a mug of mint tea. Her stomach had been in an uproar since four, and there had not been much sleeping even before that as she and Aragorn had been at the celebration until very early. Aragorn had to practically carry her back to the House last evening, and she had been frustrated by her body's tiredness. She had danced with Aragorn for a few songs, and then she had to sit the rest of them out as her ankles were screaming and her feet were tired.

She felt Aragorn's hands continue to rub gently along her neck and shoulders and she leaned her head back against his ribs. "That feels _so_ good," she whispered.

"How is your stomach?" he asked solicitously. She sighed.

"Better…the mint is helping. At least I did not heave this time."

"No, and you have been well these last few days. I think it very unlikely we will have any company for breakfast."

She smiled. "I thought perhaps Legolas," she said. "It was a very lovely celebration! After he asked Enguina to dance, she was at his side all evening."

"Yes, she was quite a dancer. I would have asked her myself, but I did not wish to steal Legolas's opportunity."

"We did not dance half as much as I would have liked," she said honestly.

Aragorn chuckled. "There will be more opportunities. Think of how many celebrations there will be once the child is born; we will be expected at every one, you know."

She turned her head, catching his hand in one of hers and pressing her lips to the back of it. "Can we not simply have one? You and I will be spending so much time with the baby, we will not wish to share it with anyone else."

"Well, if not then…perhaps a wedding next year."

Arwen laughed and lifted her chin, looking upwards into his eyes and a glimmer in hers. "I _so_ hope so, Aragorn. That would give me such delight!"

There was a gentle knock on the door. It was still early morning, and he hoped in his heart that it was not Enguina in a right state. After last night, he had hopes that she would never be troubled by nightmares again. As he walked towards the door, he realized that he never _had_ asked Arwen about the dreams; he put it on his list of things to discuss with his wife.

"I will get it," he said, "but before I do…we got a bit… _distracted_ Wednesday evening, and I had a question I meant to ask you."

Arwen raised her eyebrows, reaching back over her shoulder to stroke his face from temple to chin. "Distracted, did we get, my Lord? Is that what you would call it?"

He laughed. "Legolas said he noticed that he has had someone tailing them the last few days within the Citadel. I wanted to ask you if you had asked one of the Rangers to guard Enguina."

"I…I did ask Faramir," she sighed, a bit guiltily. "Can I explain when we do not have someone at the door?"

"Legolas will be relieved that there was no evil intent," he replied. "May I ask—" The knock sounded again and he sighed. "We _will_ continue this conversation?" He moved towards the door, still watching her face. She had no choice but to nod as he opened the door.

There Enguina stood, and he praised Ilúvatar that this time she was dressed and ready for the day, a small smile on her face. He smiled back at her and stepped out of the doorway, allowing her entrance. "Good morning, Enguina. You need not wait to enter or knock twice."

"Good morning, Aragorn. I hope I am not interrupting," she said softly. "And I know you said your home is always open for breakfast, but I was unsure with the celebration and—"

"Of course," Arwen said from the table with a smile. "Come sit. Aragorn was about to be heading out with the boys. You would not have found us if you were a few minutes later and I was feeling a bit better."

"Are you not feeling well again, Arwen?" Enguina sighed, concerned.

"It is fine," she said flippantly. "But I had intended to appease Asfaloth by walking in the stable today and…well, I do not much feel like riding."

She stared at her and then turned to look up at Aragorn as he placed a plate full of eggs and sausages before her. "Would it be safe for her?"

"Enguina—" chided Arwen, rolling her eyes.

"Yes," Aragorn said. "He would carry her safely. Arwen is a fine rider as well, which would help."

"But, you would let her ride at such a time?"

" _Enguina_ —"

"Yes," he said, taking a seat across from Enguina with a plate of sausages and eggs in his own hand. He reached over and laid a hand on Arwen's arm to prevent her from becoming cross. "I would because she is pregnant, Enguina; she is fine. She is safe, and I would be with her every moment."

"Enguina, we were discussing going riding only _days_ ago, remember? I was telling you that I was going to come—"

"But that was before I thought of what a terrible idea it might be! At least if you were with Aragorn, I would feel a bit safer, but with me? What would I do if something happened?" she asked, a look of horror on her face. "What if you fell off?"

" _Fell off?_ " Arwen laughed, taking a sip of her tea. " _Asfaloth?_ Now I _know_ you are mad."

"Ladies, do not argue," said Aragorn with a chuckle. "Honestly, Enguina, she would be fine. She is six months along…ask me in another month or two, and I would probably give you a different answer. I would not be pleased with her riding anywhere so with child."

"And I would not be foolish enough to do so," Arwen added.

"What are you drinking?" Enguina asked suddenly. "It smells delicious."

"Mint tea," she replied. "The herb, even if it is a bit bitter, helps settle my stomach. Would you like some?"

"Please," Enguina said, and Aragorn rose to fill her a cup. He set it down before her and took his place again. "Thank you very much."

"Not a problem."

Enguina smiled at him across the table. "I saw you and Arwen dancing last evening. I have thought for the longest time that anyone she danced with at any time she would put to shame, but the two of you dancing together last evening…it was quite beautiful. I was surprised, but pleasantly. I keep forgetting you grew up among the elves in Rivendell. You should be an excellent dancer."

"Now there we disagree, Lady," Aragorn said with a smile. "Just because one grows up with elves does not make him like them. Though, I will admit that I did try very hard, particularly when I was very young and did not know better."

Enguina laughed. "I suppose that is true. It was a lovely celebration though. Can I thank you again for your kind words about my brother, and to me?"

"You can, but I wish you would not," he said softly. "Haldir was my friend, and he deserved those words as much as I wished to say them. The mallorn will grow strong in Minas Tirith, and he will always be remembered."

"Enguina," Arwen said, and she turned to look at her, "you danced quite a bit yourself last evening." She raised her eyebrows at her and smiled. "You looked absolutely beautiful dancing with Legolas. You made a good pair."

"He…is an excellent dancer," she said honestly. "He was a great partner and leader. I did very much enjoy dancing with him."

"Will you see him today?"

Enguina nodded and she took a bite of her eggs. "Yes, we are working with Gimli on the wall. He was supposed to meet me here—"

"Speak of the elf and he will appear," laughed Aragorn as he spotted Legolas through the window coming onto the front porch. "The door is open!" he called, and Legolas came right on in, grinning his good morning.

"The sun is up and it is a gorgeous day!" he said, holding the door open and letting the sunshine into the House. "Just look at it!"

"It was gorgeous when I walked over in the morning," Enguina said, and he smiled at her. "I thought that it might snow today; it looked a bit foggy over the mountains."

"Legolas, I hate to put a damper on your brilliant mood, but it _is_ cold out this morning," Arwen said. "Can you please—"

"Oh!" he said, closing the door to the cold. "Forgive me, Arwen!"

She laughed. "There is nothing like a brisk morning to wake you up."

"Breakfast?" Aragorn asked, and Legolas waved a hand.

"Do not trouble yourself. I can help myself." He gathered some food and took a seat beside Enguina instead of across from her. "How was everyone's evening? It is fairly early; I was unsure if everyone would be awake."

Enguina laughed. "That sounds like what I said this morning when I arrived."

"We did not sleep very well," Aragorn admitted, "but there is always tomorrow." He cut up the last sausage on his plate as Legolas shook his head.

"You must always be with the people, one of the last couples to leave."

"It is who we are," Arwen said softly. "Just before you arrived, we were speaking of the dancing last evening. There were many good dances; you two made a very nice pair."

Legolas smiled even as Enguina blushed. "Guin is a lovely dancer. I was just telling Gimli last evening when we arrived at home that we should have more opportunities to dance and sing in Minas Tirith. It does not please me that I should have to wait so long to hear her sing or see her dance again."

"I am right here," Enguina reminded him, but she could not meet his eyes as he looked over at her. "And I am not so interested in singing."

"You always loved to sing," Arwen pointed out, taking a sip of her tea.

"With _you_ ," she said a bit defensively, "and when there was something to sing about."

"I am certain that you could find much to sing about in Minas Tirith," added Aragorn. "But perhaps when the time is right," he said, not wishing to push her, "our ears will be blessed to hear your voice in song."

"It is not that—"

"It is lovely as a bird's," Legolas interrupted her, "but rare as a threshing robin in Minas Tirith…and it was a privilege to hear it once."

"You are embarrassing me," Enguina said turning to look at him, and he met her eyes.

"You will have to forgive me."

"I will?" she asked, a smirk on her face.

"Yes, because we are to spend much of the day together," he admitted. "Unless you choose to make other plans, you shall _have_ to forgive me. I did not seek to embarrass you."

"And he is right," added Arwen. "Your voice _is_ lovely and you _should_ sing more often. We used to sing so much in Caras Galadon when we were together. Haldir used to tell us that we sang too much and needed to be silenced." She laughed. Legolas smiled to himself. _Never did I think I would be jealous of Haldir!_

"Mmm," she said, nodding and remembering. "It drove him mad when we would follow him around and sing, even though we never sang anything completely irritating, and we were always on pitch—"

"And would sing in parts."

"I can hear you now," Aragorn said with a smile. "It is a pity we have not heard you together yet. Perhaps at some time during your stay, Enguina, you might be willing to sing a song with Arwen?"

"I…would love to sing with her," she said blushing, "but singing before all of you…I do not think so. I think, perhaps, I would be too embarrassed."

"You must catch her off guard," Legolas said slyly. "It is the only way to listen to a snippet of song from this lark."

Enguina rolled her eyes as Aragorn said, with a laugh on his lips, "So I must sneak around behind her, waiting for her to sing? I do not think I have enough time in the day."

Legolas smiled. "It would be well worth the wait, I assure you."

"Stop teasing her," Arwen chided them, "she is uncomfortable enough." She gave Enguina a sweet smile. "Perhaps some time in the coming weeks, she will be comfortable enough to sing with me again."

"Will you stay with us so long, Enguina?" asked Aragorn as he rose and cleared his place at the table. It was time for him to leave them.

"I cannot say," she replied softly, and no one else tried to fill in the silence or answer for her. "Perhaps if I am here, I would be willing."

Aragorn nodded, and reached out to Arwen's face, tipping her chin up with his fingers. "Will you be feeling better, beloved?" he asked softly, and she nodded, closing her eyes as he pressed his lips to the center of her forehead.

"Give my love and regrets to the boys," she replied, squeezing his hand once before she let him go. "Have a good day."

"Take the day easy," he said, and then as he walked around the table, laid a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "Enjoy the gorgeous day as well, Legolas, Enguina. I will see you for dinner."

"Thank you for breakfast," Enguina said.

"Enjoy your ride," Legolas replied. With a last look at Arwen, Aragorn was gone, leaving the rest of them to finish the breakfast.

* * *

Enguina found herself growing very accustomed to the way Legolas looked at her, revolved around her. There was no better way to put it. Their time on the wall in the morning was well-spent with Gimli's folk; the afternoon had been harrowing. Gimli had nearly fallen from the wall again with one of his kin; it had been a terrifying few moments. Between Tadin, another dwarf, and Legolas and herself, they were able to pull the two of them to safety, but she was struck by how worried Legolas had been. She had been right beside the dwarf when the rock gave way, and, acting solely on instinct, had lunged after the rope as he had fallen from the wall. Legolas had reached for her, his desperation plain on his face, wrapping his hand around her waist and then grabbing the rope she held. Thankfully, with Tadin's help, all four of them were lying on the stone in another moment.

She had been terrified for Gimli's life; it was the moment she realized that she had come to very much see him as a friend. But _her_ terror was not her only realization; it was Legolas's terror that also struck her. He _was_ protective of her, he had reached for her first, and his eyes had been full of relief when he had held her in his arms for only two moments when they had all collapsed on the ground. He had released her when Gimli began thanking them a hundred times over for saving his life. But Legolas's eyes…her impression of his hands…these remained with her throughout the day. She could trust him, even Arwen had said so.

They had not stayed upon the wall much longer as every one of them had called it a day soon after. Now, she and Legolas stood in the stable; Belegore had just been by greeting them, and they were once again alone. She had purchased an apple and some sugar cubes for Lómë, so she made her way towards his stall.

There was not much noise until her black caught her scent. His head came looming over the top of his door, and he gave a whinny that shook the slats between each stall. Every horse down the line that _could_ poke their heads from their enclosures did so to see what was coming. Legolas laughed, and Enguina raised her eyebrows, reaching up to stroke Lómë's forehead.

"They speak to one another," said Legolas softly to Enguina's unvoiced question, as various whuffles went up about the stable. The bay across from them tossed his head up and down, making all sorts of strange noises that Enguina had never heard come from a horse.

She laughed. "What is the trouble with him? He looks…a bit familiar."

Legolas smiled. "That is Brego, the King's horse, but I am unsure what he is trying to tell you." He reached over to pat the bay's neck. "What is wrong, my friend? Did Aragorn forget to give you your sugar today?" The bay shook his head and snorted loudly, pulling his head back over the stall. He grabbed a pile of hay from the floor and popped his head back over, letting bits of hay fall onto Legolas. "Brego!" Legolas cried, moving away, but the bay tossed his head up and down quickly, spraying hay over both of them. Lómë nodded his head as well, and leaned his head out farther to lip some of the hay from Enguina's shoulder from across the aisle.

"Horses are _strange_ creatures, are they not?" asked Enguina, but she was amused. As she was brushing the hay from herself, Legolas reached over and began pulling small bits from her hair. She laughed as she began on his. "And you said he is Brego? Aragorn's horse?"

"Yes, indeed!" laughed Legolas. "You may have seen him on your way into the City."

She groaned, dropping her head against Lómë's neck. "He said he would never bring it up again. You know about that as well?"

Legolas's eyes grew amused. "I knew since you were speaking about the encounter the first night," he admitted. "Aragorn was the stranger who spoke to your horse."

Enguina groaned again. "This is so embarrassing."

"Come now, you did not know any better," he said soothingly. "You knew very little of him. And beside that, how were you to know that Aragorn really knew the language of horses? It is a gift from Ilúvatar to him; I grew certain of its significance in his life a few years ago. I knew that he could do it but never what it was for until the War came. Ever has he been able to converse with them; it is as though one-sided speech to us, but he can understand what they are saying."

She nodded, still embarrassed. "I simply thought he was absurd," she said with a little laugh. "I wish I had known!"

"Nay," he replied with a smile, "that you could never have known. Now that you are aware he is not mad, what _do_ you think of him?"

"Arwen's husband?" she asked softly, thinking as she rubbed Lómë's neck. "I think… he is the best of men," she said seriously, "and I think, even though he is a mortal, that Arwen is the luckiest being on earth to be loved by him." She whispered the last part. "He cares for her so much; you can see the love he has for others in his eyes, in the way he speaks. I thought she deserved better at first because I…had wrongful suspicions of him. I have known Arwen for so long…only the best would ever have been good enough for her." She gave him a rueful smile. "I think I know why her father was so worried; I was, too. I only ever desired for Arwen to be happy, and when I found him not returning for dinner, I thought that perhaps he was neglectful and Arwen's good mood was show."

"No," Legolas said, agreeing, "she truly is happy."

"Than ever I have seen her; surely, she is," she said, her voice growing softer. "He is the best of men," she repeated. "In fact, I have never met so many good people in one place before."

Legolas smiled at her. "Were there no good elves in Lothlórien?"

"Well, yes…but I have known them forever," she replied, glancing up at him and blushing. "There are so many here…Aragorn, Faramir…Gimli…and…" she hesitated, and he said nothing, waiting her out as she stroked her fingers along Lómë's cheek. He did not know if she had plans to continue, but he was not going to fill in the space; he _wanted_ her to continue… _wished_ for it… "And you," she said even more softly. She turned her head to look at him, resting her temple against Lómë's cheek. "If I had known that there could be good men, I might not have been traveling to the Undying Lands so soon."

Legolas looked gently at her. "We are not all bad."

"No," she said, and there was a sorrow behind her eyes that broke his heart, "but that has not been my experience."

"I…" he began, thinking about what he wanted to say and then deciding he was not going to gloss over it. He meant every word. "I wish I could erase whatever happened to you…I wish I could heal your heart."

She looked down, unable to hold his gaze. His talk of hearts was unnerving. "I do not think that is possible, Legolas."

He reached forward, and tilted her chin up towards him with his fingertips. He suddenly seemed so near, and the conversation had grown so serious. "You should not hide," he said tenderly, honestly. "You have a beautiful heart, Guin. You should think about your future before you run away from it."

Her normally cautious mind _yelped_ at her. He was close, two of his warm fingers still lifting her chin, his eyes looking deep into hers. She could read into them; she could read his soul. Run away from her future? Was he talking about Minas Tirith? Himself? She knew better than to even question it; in fact, if she was able to be honest with herself, she knew damn well what he was making a reference to.

Her eyes began to fill. "I am… _I am so unsure, Legolas_." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she replied, her hands beginning to tremble, one still on Lómë's neck.

"What are your choices?" he asked softly, and she knew that he drew slightly nearer. She remained where she stood, her green eyes caught up in his blue. Her head was _screaming_ now…he was too close…he was too close and there was no escape. Did she even _want_ escape? Would she dare to try?

"To…to go to the Undying Lands to find peace…" she said, nearly breathless. He was so close she could feel his sweet breath on her face. Her eyes wanted to flutter closed; her heart, her mind knew what was coming, but she could not tear her eyes from his, could not move, could not run. She stood, frozen beside Lómë, whose mane was now tangled in her right hand. "Or…or to stay…"

"To stay…" he said softly, and the pull in his heart was too great to ignore. How could he hide his love for her any longer when every part of him wished her to believe in it? He could not bear the thought of a day without being beside her; he wanted… _needed_ her to remain. "You could make your peace here," he said, his voice no louder than the softest whisper. " _Stay…_ "

"Stay…?" she began; in her voice was an unspoken question, but her voice faded as his brow brushed against hers.

"Stay…" he said, his voice a bit stronger, and this time, she could not stop her eyes from closing. She could smell his breath, feel the warmth of it on her lips, and though her mind was howling, her heart was shouting for it, begging for him to close the last inch between them.

" _Legolas_ …" she whispered, and she did not know what she had meant by uttering his name.

That first kiss, that first touch of his lip to hers was _barely_ a touch…but it was enough. Had she been about to beg him for mercy; oh god, _stop_ , in terror? Had she been about to beg him to kiss her; oh god, _please_ , in passion? Had she been thinking that saying his name might stall him another moment for her to gather her wits? She had no idea what she had intended, but she was completely unprepared for this…this… _whatever this was._ She shivered beneath the touch of his lips, her chin still supported by his fingers.

 _Feelings_ poured through her, and her eyes came open and found him looking into them. Behind her eyes he watched the emotions; bliss, joy, worry, fear, sorrow. He did not know them, know why, but she felt it. _Bliss_ , for love she had never known, did not know how to acknowledge; _joy_ , for he wanted to be with her; _worry_ , what was she doing; _fear_ , she had kissed a man before and then the _terror_ that ensued; and _sorrow_ …that she would never be able to enjoy whatever he had to give her…and that she would never be able to give it back to him.

A matter of a second or two; that was all it took. The fingers that had been tangled into Lómë's mane came undone, hands trembling, nerves and emotions on fire… _on fire_! And the two fingers that now rested against her chin, keeping her face tilted towards him were as a prison—and a memory or a bruising grip holding her lower jaw flashed through her mind. She began to retreat, backing away, shaking her head, feeling a thousand things in the moment his lips brushed hers; now they confused her, tortured her. Her shoulders and back pressed up against the stall and she was suddenly trapped…trapped and terrified.

"Guin…" he said softly, for once at an absolute loss for words. He had no idea what to do, how to respond! Ask her to stay? Try to speak with her? Prevent her from leaving? If she ran now, would he ever see her again? His heart was shredding, staring into her terrified eyes. She _had_ to know what he was feeling, but he could see that she was afraid of what _she_ was feeling. But was her fear of what she was feeling? Was it something more?

The eyes he was staring into began to fill, but she refused the tears from falling even as she began to shake her head. "No, no," he said softly, "it is all right."

"I… _Legolas_ … _I cannot_." Her voice barely above a whisper, still she could not tear her eyes from his, but o! how desperately she wanted to!

"Let me bear this burden you carry," he whispered, offering his heart to her in not so many words. "Guin, it will be all right."

"No..." she stuttered, "I am not who I was; I cannot be! Please, I…forgive me, forgive me. _Please…_ " Her breath caught and she could not continue, but she was frozen where she stood, her terrified, sorrowful, tear-filled eyes frozen fast upon his.

Legolas suddenly realized in that instant that only he could free her; he could keep her, or he could set her free to make her own choice. He had to let her go. Carefully withdrawing his fingers from her chin, he drew back a step, but it was just enough room for her to slip past him and escape from the prison between his chest and the stall door. She was gone before he even had time to turn and follow her out with his eyes. He did not try to call her back.

He saw the traces in the sawdust upon the stable floor where each soft foot had stepped. He sank down into the haystack that they had sat in just days ago, and, groaning, dropped his face into his hands.

"Oh, you fool…" he muttered, "what have you done?"

He had allowed himself too much; he had seen her last night and had fallen so far, so fast, that he could not see in his mind any other way for this to end than in her love for him. He had seen it in her eyes last night; felt it in the way she held his hand. She _had_ to know what he felt; could she have been denying that what had drawn them closer was love? They teased, they were courting without so many words; they had spent hours upon hours of every day together…how could she not know he was in love with her?

But shame on him! He was a fool in love…a fool in love with _her_. Had he not been telling Gimli just last night that he had not confessed his love, had not kissed her yet? How could he have done such a thing, to scare her, frighten her? He knew that she had been overwhelmed by the kiss, had _known_ she would be hours ago.

Oh, what a _fool_ he had been!

* * *

 _To go…or not?_

Enguina paced from her bedroom towards the kitchen, wringing her hands. She would _not_ go, she decided. The King's House could do without her for an evening. No one would wonder where she was because Legolas would tell them all how completely _absurd_ she was, and everyone would have a good laugh, especially the dwarf and the elf, about what a completely unbelievable child she was. She would go to the Undying Lands _tomorrow_ , unable to face Legolas…or Arwen…or anyone else.

She turned, pacing from the kitchen back along the hall to her bedroom, chewing the inside of her lips. She _would_ go, she decided. The King's House could not possibly do without her for an evening and _everyone_ would wonder where she was because she had never failed to show before and Legolas would never breathe one _word_ about what had happened because no matter how terrified she was, he would never do anything to hurt her because, as she had told him earlier, he was a good man.

She threw herself down on her bed, burying her head back beneath her pillow where it had been since she had run here from the stable. She knew he would not follow her, knew he would not stop her, knew he would not call her back or interrupt the mood she now found herself in. He was too _kind_ for that. What was she _doing_? All this time, what had been her expectation? She was a _fool._

Had he not made his every intention known since the first day they had met? Had he not sought her out at every turn? Had he not made himself perfectly clear when he had told her that all their faults were out in the open and it was not enough to scare him away? But, no…they had left out their major faults. Hers, Bragolaur, his…that he was _relentless_ in his pursuit. Although, perhaps even there he had hidden nothing. She, on the other hand, had so much to hide.

She could _not_ pretend it had never happened. It _had_ happened, and at times it still happened in her dreams, haunted her, tortured her. And what was she to tell him when he found out about her night terrors, those evenings when she could not be alone and ran to Arwen's home? How was she to explain herself without telling the truth about what had happened? He would want to know…and she would be unable to tell him…and then he would leave…

Her heart broke; no, no she could never allow herself to go through that! She could never allow herself to let it go so far and have him leave her! She would be so broken that she would never breathe again. Ilúvatar was so _far_ from her! She rolled upright, tears on her face; she had prayed for _so long_ ; she had _reached_ for Ilúvatar so many times, only to have him ignore her. But here, now, though she had not prayed in years, she reached out again for the only One who could find a way for her…she was one in millions, but perhaps He would be listening this time…perhaps He would hear her.

 _Everyone has a story to tell and everyone has a wound to be healed_

 _I want to believe there is beauty here_

 _Oh, I get so tired of holding on; I cannot let go I cannot move on_

 _I want to believe there is meaning here_

 _How many times have you heard me cry out, 'god, please take this!'_

 _How many times have you given me strength to just keep breathing?_

 _Oh I need you; god, I need you now!_

 _Standing on a road I did not plan wondering how I got to where I am_

 _I am trying to hear that still small voice_

 _I am trying to hear above the noise!_

 _How many times have you heard me cry out, 'god, please take this!'_

 _How many times have you given me strength to just keep breathing?_

 _Oh I need you; god, I need you now!_

 _Oh I walk, oh I walk through the shadows and I am so afraid_

 _Please stay, please stay right beside me_

 _With every single step I take_

 _How many times have you heard me cry out, 'god, please take this!'_

 _How many times have you given me strength to just keep breathing?_

 _Oh I need you; god, I need you now!_

She cried, her hands covering her face, trying to find a shred of comfort. No, if Legolas was going to leave her at some time when he found out, it was better if she was gone…it was better to leave _tonight_ …right now, in fact, and never, _ever_ have to face him again. She would never have to tell Arwen farewell, and she could be off to the Undying Lands in moments. She threw herself to her feet, her intentions set as she began gathering her things.

But…her feet stilled in their motion. _Something_ drew her hand to her face.

Her lips burned in memory, and with her fingertips against them, she found herself before the mirror atop the dresser nearest her bed. She looked at her own features. Her fingers trembled as she remembered that brief brush. She _had_ been terrified…but she had not been terrified of _him._ She was terrified of her own actions, her own feelings, the unknown of how Legolas would respond, how Legolas would treat her once he knew. The kiss…well…

Her eyes fluttered closed as she remembered that _fire_ she had felt, unquenchable. She had never felt that way before; in a moment, it had flooded her, filled her from head to toe. It made her jittery; it had made her want to reach forward and wrap her hands in _his_ hair instead of Lómë's and keep him there so she could feel his lips against hers for longer than just a brush. She had felt _love_ for him…unlike anything she had ever felt for another person in her entire existence. She had been searching for it forever…her whole life…and she had not wanted it to end. Perhaps that was also what had frightened her: a lifetime's worth of searching and she had found her heart's desire when she had all but given up. What she had told Arwen on that first day in Minas Tirith had been true: she had every intention of finding peace in Valinor, in going to Valinor…

And now what? Could she really just ride out of Minas Tirith and never look back? She would curse herself every day. Flinging down what she had picked up, she opened her eyes and scowled at her reflection. She thought of the words Arwen had spoken from only a few nights ago. _Are you going to let him rule your heart? Are you going to miss out on everything that you could have?_

She did not want to answer 'yes' to either of those questions as she leaned her hands against the dresser and rested all of her weight on them, staring at her reflection. But her hands trembled. She _was_ afraid…and fear had been her primary motivator for the last thirty-odd years. But…she knew very well who had stilled her feet, caused her to remember that kiss, caused her to question her choice. So the question still remained…

 _To go…or not?_


	15. Chapter 15

Legolas watched as Enguina kissed Arwen's cheek and quietly made her way out the door of the King's House. At _best_ , she had been almost silent through dinner, and she had simply said her good nights and gone the moment she could. Her avoidance of his gaze all evening made him think that if she _had_ actually looked at him, she knew she would be frozen again until he broke the stare and gave her leave; after a few attempts to meet her eyes, he simply released her from the contest. He did not wish to force her to a decision. He simply did not have that in him. No matter how much he was in love with her, how much he had fallen for her, he was not about to make her love him. He had been foolish enough!

But…none of this made him any less confused. There was a part of him that wished very deeply to come to an understanding with her and find out what in the world was taking such a toll on her heart. He wanted to help; he wanted to discover her; he wanted to give her the love that she so obviously deserved but perhaps had never received. He sat alone at the dining table; Faramir and Éowyn had gone, and Gimli had removed himself to smoke on the front porch. Legolas was still caught up in his thinking. Arwen had invited him only moments ago to sit outside on the balcony on the wall on this lovely December night, but he had not accepted the invitation. She allowed him to be content to sit at her dining table and he was grateful. She had taken her wrap and headed out the back of the House to the balcony, far from the smoke of Gimli's pipe.

The door clicked open, and he heard Aragorn's soft laughter come in through the door. As he moved into the House, he spied Legolas at the table. He grinned, moving to the elf's side.

"Late as usual," Legolas said first, shaking his head, but grinning. He clasped the arm the man had extended to him, but it did not take long for a hug to come as well.

"Ah…but it is not 'as usual', or you would be in bed, my friend, and I would not have seen you at all." He reached over and drew an apple from the basket nearby, thankful that Arwen always had fresh fruit about in their home.

Legolas nodded. "You are right, of course."

"I do not eat as many meals as I would like in this House, spending time with all of you."

"I agree," he stated, "and I am certain Arwen would beg the same wish for you to be here. She has spent many a night waiting upon your return."

"Speaking of my lovely wife," Aragorn asked, glancing over his shoulder and into the other room, "where is she? I saw Gimli out front, but I did not see her."

Legolas nodded behind him. "She went to the porch on the wall. She said she wanted some time to look at the stars; I think she was seeking some quiet tonight. There was a lot of that tonight," he said wryly. It took only another moment before the situation Legolas had found himself in came back to the fore of his mind, and something flashed in his eyes for a moment. A normal man may not have seen it, but this was Aragorn; he knew the elf _extremely_ well. He tilted his head.

"What is the matter, mellon nîn?" he asked, and he took a seat across the table from him. His gaze was intent; he would hardly move away without an answer. He would get one; Legolas had every intention of discussing it with the man.

"It is…it is _me_ , the fool," he said shaking his head, and then he added, "and Enguina, I suppose. It is…difficult to explain, and you know I am not usually at a loss for words."

Aragorn nodded as he took a bite of his apple. He ate it slowly. "Is that collectively, or individually?" It sounded as though the statement could have been a joke under any other circumstances, but Legolas knew that Aragorn was serious because _he_ was.

"Both actually," Legolas admitted, "though it is hard to understand as well as explain. I regret the lack of details I can provide; there is not much to tell." He sighed. "But I will try. It is…well known that Enguina and I have been spending quite a bit of time together the past week or so she has been in Minas Tirith. It is no secret."

"You have spent _every_ day together," Aragorn pointed out, "and that has been good for both of you. She needed a companion, and you were quite a willing one. You have been enjoying yourself."

"Immensely, I will admit," he said, but he was frowning. "I know she has as well. But…there is something more. I have come to know her, Aragorn, as no one else, and I have known her not two weeks! She is almost _shy_ at times but then at others she seems unfettered and she can tease like no one else. She is willing to work; she enjoys spending time with Gimli as well as I do, you saw her dance with him!"

"As well as you."

"Since the moment I saw her as she entered Minas Tirith through the gates, Aragorn, I have felt connected to her. My heart is light, but it _pounds_ within me, _burns_ within me, whenever I am near her. I feel…fiercely protective of her, and yet more than that when I am about her. When I touch her arm, lay a hand on her back, it is as though a current connects us, a string is attached between herself and my heart…whatever she does tugs the string." He looked at Aragorn seriously, but hesitated. Aragorn leaned his elbows on the table.

"Tell me."

"I am in love with her," he said softly, his eyes now boring holes into the dining table. "I am in love with her," he repeated. "I am not falling, I have fallen… _hard, sudden, completely_. There is no going back. It is so… _strange_. I cannot remember myself without her with me. What in heaven's name did I fill my days with before she arrived in Minas Tirith? Ilúvatar, it is as though I have found my heart for the first time and lost it to her! I do not even know where it is if it is not trailing about at her feet somewhere!

"This is complete…total…and fatal. It was as sudden death when I saw her from the wall walking into the City, and…getting to know her has been a dream. Her laugh is perfect and she is amused by my words and efforts to make her smile. She has…" the words were simply pouring out of him now as he lifted his head to meet Aragorn's eyes, " _bewitched_ me. I cannot go back; I cannot ever be the same."

"Is this so bad?" Aragorn asked gently. He knew what Legolas felt; it had been sudden with himself and Arwen…he could never have loved another.

"No…and _yes_ ," he groaned, resting his head in his hands. "I remember so many years ago when I said to you that you had set your sights too high, that Arwen was so far above you that you were a fool to love her and that you could never be together. But it was irreversible, unchangeable…you physically _could not_ go back."

"Yes," he agreed, "it was all of those things."

"Now, knowing that you are right, I am…I am such a _fool_."

"You keep saying that."

"It is true!" he said, raising his head to meet the man's eyes again. "And you will agree when you hear what I have done. Over the past days, we have grown closer and closer. We have spoken of so many things, her life in Lothlórien, you and Arwen…so many different things. Today she spoke of leaving and I told her in so many words that she…she should stay here. I have been so _careful_ around her; so kind, trying to have no expectations…and today I destroyed all of that in one, dim-witted deed."

Aragorn pictured the Enguina of the terrible morning, leaning against his door and weeping, backing away from him in fear. Nothing Legolas had done could possibly equal that, but his expression grew more concerned. "Tell me what happened."

"The space between us closed and I…kissed her," he said softly, his eyes closing. "It just… _happened_. I _just_ brushed my lips against hers…but it was enough; it was a kiss. I shall not speak of what I felt in that moment except one thing; the moment was sudden and certain, as if my heart had reunited with a piece of itself that had been missing forever. In that first second I saw in her eyes what I felt in my own heart…as if everything we had ever wanted had been found forever…and then everything changed.

"Something… _terrible_ tore away that joy and peace; her eyes grew clouded and frightened and she backed away from me. There was nothing I could do but let her go, and so I did and she ran from me. She begged my forgiveness and said that she must go," he said, his voice soft and full of sorrow, "and she said she could not." He shook his head. "What she could not do, I do not know. She could not love me? Could not allow me to kiss her? Could not let me love her? I just do not _know_ , Aragorn. I am so confused! Guide me!" he begged. "Was I wrong?"

Aragorn reached over and placed a hand on his friend's arm. "Legolas, even though women are not like us, and Gimli tells you they are difficult to read, they are not _that_ difficult. Did she want you to kiss her?"

He hesitated, remembering the moment, the way she had spoken his name. "Yes," he said with certainty, "but her reaction was—"

"You were not wrong in that moment, Legolas," he said gently. "You kissed her because the moment was right. But…you made the right choice by letting her go."

"But…why was she so afraid? And what was she afraid of? Did I frighten her? I did not push her into it; I did not corner her, chase her, coerce her—"

"Something, or someone, has hurt her very deeply in the past," he interrupted Legolas's ranting softly. "It was not what you did…but what she felt."

"You were not there the first night I asked her to come and explore the City with me. When I first asked her, I could see her make it right with Arwen first," he murmured. "But, she has been alone with me so many times since then and we…danced for _hours_ last night. And then the moment struck, as you said, and I could not make myself see sense.

"And the worst of it is that I am not sorry!" he cried, groaning aloud, dropping his head in his hands for a moment. "If I were to do today over I would not change what happened, and I would still be at this place. I am _such_ a _fool_."

Aragorn gave him a little smirk. "We are all fools in love, Legolas."

"You were never a fool with Arwen," Legolas grumbled softly.

"Perhaps one day, many evenings from now, I will spend a few hours totaling the number of foolish things I did when I first loved her. Now is not the time," he replied, but then became serious again. "Let me speak with Arwen about Enguina. There…are some things that I have been meaning to ask her. I _did_ address the guard with her; she had asked for it."

"Arwen?" Legolas asked as Aragorn nodded. "Well, at least that puts me more at ease. It was not because of me, was it?"

"Doubtful," Aragorn said, rolling his eyes. "Arwen trusts you with her life, why not Enguina's?"

 _Legolas_ , _if you hurt her…I will kill you myself._ He smiled ruefully at Aragorn. "You might say that, but Arwen threatened my life the night before we went to the market."

"She _what_?"

"She was clearly worried for Enguina," he said, coming to her defense, but Legolas's words made Aragorn even more intrigued about the original story, about what had really happened to Enguina. "And she was sincere. It was a threat as I had made to you when you first told me of your love for Arwen."

"Ah…so one made out of love, then."

"Just so." Legolas sighed. "Is it wise for you to speak to Arwen? If Enguina wanted us to—"

"I think that Enguina will not be able to say two words about any of this, if you wish me to be honest." He tilted his head at Legolas. "I do not think she is capable of telling you, Legolas…and I think that may be why she fled from you. But...Arwen might be able to speak with her about what happened today."

"I simply do not _know_ , Aragorn. She was here tonight, and it was awkward. She would not even look at me, but I could not apologize for it when I cannot think it was wrong." He sighed. "I do not wish her to think that I care so little about what happened. I want to help her in any way I can, but if she will not speak of what happened, than how can I?"

Aragorn frowned and thought a moment. "You said you saw in her eyes what you felt; even if for only a second, does this mean that she feels this love for you as you for her?"

Legolas sighed again, frustrated. "I know that I saw something in her face, but there was so much conflict. She does not wish to trust me."

"It might be that she does," Aragorn assured him gently, seeing how miserable he was. "Legolas, she was here tonight, even if she did not talk to you. She did not run all that far. Give her a chance to come back." He gave him a smile and squeezed the elf's arm. "You are not giving up that easily are you?"

"Oh…it is not about giving up," he replied. "I only…I am worried I ruined everything between us because I was ready, and she was not. And I should have asked her first…I should have asked her and then—"

"It may have made no difference. Do not waste time questioning yourself and your motives; what is done has been done, and your life will not get any easier by torturing yourself." He sighed, as Legolas nodded; the two of them stood together. "You know that I will do all that I can to help her, Legolas. She is part of our family now."

Legolas reached over and clasped his friend's shoulder. "I trust that you will. Never had I a more faithful friend, Aragorn—"

"Except perhaps Gimli," Aragorn said lightly, and Legolas gave a soft laugh.

"Yes…the dwarf holds quite a place in my heart, but you have I known since you were a little boy, and blessed have I been to know you still. You are my good friend; much have we done for one another."

"And much will we still do," Aragorn said softly, and he clasped Legolas' shoulder as well. "You are welcome."

* * *

Arwen had known that Legolas had a desire to speak with Aragorn alone, so she had left him to it. The porch was cold, but quiet, and she enjoyed singing softly to her little one as she sat there with her shawl wrapped about her and her hands upon her stomach. The baby was growing every day, and she was ever more eager to hold her in her arms. But her heart was troubled tonight; Enguina had been quiet, and when asked about her silence as she was leaving, she gave barely an answer. It was not only this that troubled Arwen, but that Enguina walked home _alone_ and hurried out, refusing any offer of an escort, wanting quiet herself. Finding that _Legolas_ was also quiet bothered her very much, and so the assumption that the two were connected was not far off. She worried for Enguina, and wondered what could have happened today while they were together; she hoped that her assumption was wrong, and that she would not find Enguina missing in the morning because she had ridden to the Grey Havens. She doubted Enguina would leave without saying good-bye, but she supposed it would depend upon what had happened between them.

Arwen entered the House from the back porch and softly closed the door. Aragorn was staring into the hearth, but as she came towards him, he rose and extended a hand to her. "Come and sit beside me, love," he said and as she took his hand, he led her to their window seat. He leaned against the wall and she sat almost against him, laying her head against his chest. He reached down and began combing his fingers through her soft hair.

"Did you not wish to join me outside this evening?" she asked softly, her eyes now closed in pleasure at the heaven from his fingertips. She could have fallen asleep at any moment, but she concentrated upon what he would say.

"I was surprised to hear that you were out there," he said, his lips brushing against her forehead as he spoke. "It was cold tonight."

"It was, but I did not wish to intrude. I knew something was weighing on Legolas's heart. He desired a man's opinion…not a woman's."

"I have something I need to ask you," he said honestly, "but I do not want you to feel as though you _must_ tell me what I wish to know. If you would, there might be two we love dearly that might gain something from our talk."

"Will you speak to me of Legolas?" she asked. "Enguina was very quiet tonight, and she left without wishing to speak to me. She was withdrawn…and tired."

He nodded. "We both know that Enguina and Legolas have become very close. They have spent every day together since last Wednesday and it is now Friday. They danced and enjoyed each other's company immensely. Legolas related the day's story to me, but it was one of both happiness _and_ despair, for both of those involved with the situation felt these feelings."

"Tell me what happened."

"They were in the stable not long before dinner and they were speaking together. Legolas found himself no longer able to hide the desire to share his affections with her, and so he kissed her. He feels foolish, because even though Enguina appeared receptive at first, she became aloof, sad, even fearful. In her eyes he found grief and pain and a struggle within her that forced her to release him. She asked for his forgiveness and told him that she 'could not,' but she would not stay long enough to talk to him. He released her, and she fled.

"From Legolas's words and from her flight to the House, I can only gather that there was something in Enguina's past that had hurt her very deeply." He looked at her seriously. "If there were something that I could do to help her, and in a way that would help them…I would do it. I know that there are things that perhaps are none of my business, but I could also not help overhearing your conversation with her the other morning after the dream that haunts her steps." He paused and sighed softly. "Is there nothing you can tell me? Is there nothing to be done for her?"

Arwen's head slowly raised, and she gave a disheartened sigh, sitting up to turn towards him. "She is my dearest friend…I would do _anything_ to help her through this. For so long have I tried to heal her heart, but perhaps it was never meant to be my hand that did the healing. I have spoken with her so many times, held her, comforted her, prayed for her. Perhaps through someone else, maybe you, she might have a chance at the happiness that she should have…the chance for a life without this burden of grief she bears…a chance for a life with Legolas."

"Tell me," he said softly, "and I shall do whatever I can to help her."

Arwen sighed. "I shall tell you the tale; it is a story of not long ago…forty years or so, and not much longer than that. Enguina had been my friend for ages and it was not so long before that an elf had begun to court her. They spent time together in the year before you came at first to Lothlórien, but more and more Enguina realized that I myself was falling to pieces." She gave him a wry smile. "That part you already know of.

"It was Enguina who had tried to lighten my heart so much during the time after I had first met you, but nothing seemed to work. Then, five months before you came, the elf, you will know his name soon enough," she pointed out, "asked her to wed him. Enguina had never even been in love before this time, and she knew that she did not fully understand love. The following day, her parents were to journey to the Undying Lands. She and I spoke, for she was unsure of what to do, and she asked me to tell _no one._ She believed that Eru Himself wished her to go to the Grey Havens to take the time to discover what her path was and if she should marry him, and so she did, leaving him behind. She had told him she would give him an answer upon her return.

"It was five months later, when I myself was giving thought to sailing for Valinor, that you came and prevented it," she said softly. "Enguina had been on her way home during the time you spent there, and that was the reason you never met her. You _did_ meet the husband who might have been if her answer had been yes when you were in Lothlórien."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, and thought hard of those he had met that had not been wed at that time. Then, his eyes grew sad with knowledge and he shook his head. "Do not tell me…it was Bragolaur. _Bragolaur_ was to be her husband."

Arwen's eyes grew sad, and Aragorn placed his hands on her shoulders to comfort her. She sighed very deeply, a great burden on her shoulders. "Do you remember when I asked you what you had thought of him? Do you remember what you told me?"

"I only remember my impression of him," he said softly. "I know he seemed strong, decisive, smart."

"You told me that he seemed to desire something very greatly," she said. "You were only too right, Aragorn. I could not tell you then why I wished to know, for Enguina had sworn me to secrecy. I did not think Enguina loved him, but I did not wish to tell her that myself. She needed to make her own decision about Bragolaur, though I will be honest to say that I hoped while she was away, she would make the right one. When Enguina returned the week after you had left, I found out she had.

"Enguina had gone away trying to figure out what her path was, and while there, she realized that she did _not_ love Bragolaur. She felt only affection for him as a brother or a friend…no more. We spoke of this, and then she told Bragolaur. The next day when I spoke with her, I realized things had gone terribly wrong. Bragolaur reacted with such anger; he was so full of disbelief that she would refuse him, that he gripped her so tightly he nearly broke her arm."

" _What_?" Aragorn's eyes flashed, and she flinched as she remembered. "Haldir—"

"He did not know," Arwen groaned. "She told me not to tell him, that everything would be fine. But I was _terrified_ for her, and I told her that she was to go nowhere near him alone."

"He injured her that badly, and you did not tell Haldir?"

"Aragorn, Haldir would have had him by the throat against a tree," Arwen said softly.

"As would I," he said, a bit of a snarl behind his voice, his eyes ablaze.

"After what happened, I regretted every moment I did not get him involved," she said, and she felt the pain of her own failure in her soul. "At the time, I still had not told her of your existence. It was nearly a week later after several interruptions that I thought I could finally tell her that I was deeply in love with you, for she continued to question me upon what had so completely altered me. That morning, I told her I would meet her…" Her eyes closed in pain, and he reached forward, gently wiping away the tear that she had not known had fallen. "Forgive me…" she whispered. "I told her I would meet her on Cerin Amroth, but Erumar and Grandmother delayed me. While I was meeting with them, Enguina went to that fair hill to watch the sunrise and…Bragolaur came to her there." She drew a ragged breath and her eyes filled again.

He hated it when she hurt; her pain was his own. "Tell me, Arwen."

"When I finally came, she was not…on the top of the hill, and I knew something had to be wrong. And then I looked…and I could see them down below…" she hesitated and waited for the words to come, trying to prevent herself from losing her composure completely. "I saw him…" she said, listening to her own horrified voice, "I saw him over her, touching her, his hands…Ilúvatar, his hands were on her hips; he had torn most of her clothes, and she was…" she swallowed hard, her voice now a horrified whisper but she had to force the words out, "naked and tied and staked to the ground, unable to escape. He was on _top_ of her and _moving_ , Aragorn, holding her _down_ and…and he had…god, _he was inside her_ …"

He raised his hands to run his thumbs across her eyes. _Oh Ilúvatar…Enguina…poor, sweet thing…_ Wrapping his arms around her, he brought her to his chest. It was that comfort that made her break down completely. "Oh, Arwen…"

"When I got down to her, he was…he was nearly finished with her," she sobbed, holding herself as tightly to him as she could get. "I had the dagger you had given me, and I stabbed him with it, flinging him from her, and I was _screaming…screaming as I never had._ I fought him, even without the weapon I had lost in his flesh, doing everything possible to _hurt_ him as terribly as I could. He fought back for his life, and eventually escaped; I do not know whether he lived or died, he was sorely wounded. But Enguina…she was bleeding and… _hurt_ …Ilúvatar, she was _so_ _hurt_ …"

He had feared that it would be something like this; he had been forced to watch orcs violate women, but he had never known anything like this tale. Elves minds did not heal as easily as men's, and their hurts often stayed with them forever. Enguina had been harboring this grief, this pain, for over forty years; her nightmares were living memories. But even beyond this, there was something more about the story that bothered him; it was in the telling of it. He cupped his hands around the back of her head as she looked at him. "Arwen, have you never spoken of this to anyone?" he asked.

She slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered, "Grandmother knew, as she knew all that came and went within the Golden Wood, but I never could tell Haldir or Erumar the whole truth," she whispered. "They knew that Enguina had been sorely hurt and that Bragolaur was the cause, but I could never tell them the part I played in it."

Those words broke his heart. "Arwen, you had _no_ hand in—"

"If I only had told her to wait for me!" she cried out. "If I had paid more attention to what could happen, I would have known not to let her go out alone! But I never thought…I never thought that he would try to take her, that he _would_ take her." She leaned back finally, looking into his eyes, and he raised a hand from around her to wipe her face gently. "He was like a man possessed, the way he was touching her, god, Aragorn the way he was _pushing_ ," her eyes were horrified, "if I close my eyes I can see him, hear her _crying_ …and I _hurt_ him, but that was not enough." Bitterness flooded her voice. "I should have _killed_ him for what he did to her."

"I thought I had heard those words the other evening."

"I meant them, and I mean them now," she whispered. "He dwells in her thoughts because of what he did, because he _exists_. She cannot be rid of him. Aragorn, her dreams are evil. You saw her the other morning; she _hurts_ …she dreams of the pain. Sometimes, she dreams of the time he was there, but some nights she dreams of what could be…if he ever finds her again." Her eyes flooded with despair. "I am _lost_ …I do not know how to help her. I thought that Legolas, his friendship, even his love, might be enough to push the darkness away, but she is still having these dreams. And she _blames_ herself; she thinks that she did something wrong, that somehow it was her _fault_ that he did this to her. It breaks my heart that she blames herself; he was _mad_ …he had _lost his mind._ "

He stroked her cheek. "You are just as easily blaming yourself."

She looked at him sharply, but then the look faded. "I…I do not think it was my fault," she said, hesitating though she was confronted by the truth in his words. "I only wish, with my whole being, that I could go back and change what happened. I cannot."

"You had a dream about her the other morning," he said gently.

"It was…a reliving of the whole situation, what I saw, how he hurt her; her cries of pain are the worst in my head. And in _that place_ …the place where we…where we professed our love for each other, where you asked me to be your wife…" She looked away from him. " _Oh, Aragorn…_ "

"I know what you are hearing…I have seen…" he hesitated, and she lifted her head again to look at him. It was not often he _ever_ spoke of the past, what he had experienced, what he had done in the years when he was a Ranger. He never told her of his dreams; there were nights when he simply could not. He continued softly, "I have been where you were…but at least you stopped him; you were able to stop him before…"

"But not before he had hurt her so much already…does the end result matter that much?" she asked softly, and she watched him shake his head.

"No, he had already done what he intended to do."

"I wish I could…change the past," she said, and he stroked her face again.

"Forward we must go," he agreed softly. "What _is_ she truly afraid of? Does she fear Bragolaur's return? That he might actually come for her? He would not know the first place to look."

Arwen sighed. "No…I think that what she is most afraid of is that once Legolas knows the truth, he will not wish to have anything to do with her. She feels that there is something wrong with her, that she has been poisoned by Bragolaur and is therefore unlovable and unwanted."

"Legolas does not feel that way; will _not_ feel that way."

"But he does not know what happened, Aragorn, and therefore, she is uncertain. She does not know his character as we do. You are the only other person who knows," she said softly. "Enguina…she forbid me to ever tell her family or anyone else."

"I am not anyone else," he replied softly, and she looked into his eyes again. His were serious as he continued, "You and I are one flesh, therefore, all of your secrets are mine, and all of my secrets are yours."

She raised an eyebrow. "All of them?"

He grimaced. "To an extent, my love…I would not burden your heart with—"

"I wish you would," she told him. "I wish you would tell me everything, so I would know how to comfort you when _you_ dream."

"There are some things that are not for hearing. And the comfort you provide already is exactly what I need." He stroked her face again and he looked thoughtful. "My thought, after Legolas and I had spoken, was to ask you to speak with her. I think…I think that I would like to talk with her myself."

"She will not be…very pleased."

He gave her a wry smile. "Someone needs to convince her that her life is worth living, even when she feels as though it is in chaos. There are people who care for her, and no one is going to judge her. If anything, it makes me want to convince her to stay even more than I wished her to stay before. It happened so long ago."

"Not for an elf," Arwen said honestly. "For me it happened yesterday, Aragorn; her pain is like a knife. I can still _see_ her there…I know why she has nightmares about him; how could she not if I feel it so keenly? I have prayed for her for _so long_ …and when I speak to Enguina about prayer, she says that she believes Eru does not answer them. I know she is wrong."

"He has already," Aragorn replied, "He is extending love out to her from every side since she has arrived."

"I hoped Legolas could heal her heart, but perhaps it will take more than that…perhaps someone needs to heal her mind."

"If she cannot hear your words of healing, maybe she will hear mine," he agreed. "You are certainly right that she will not be pleased you told me, but it will matter little if I can reach her. I will try, Arwen. She is part of our family now; she will be cared for."

"I will pray harder than ever," she whispered, sighing, "for both of you. For Ilúvatar to give you grace to speak, and Enguina to have the grace to listen." He slipped his arms around her and hugged her against his chest.

"You must let your part in the tale go as well," he told her gently.

"It is difficult when I see her hurting…and I know he is still out there somewhere. No, I do not think he shall ever return; I told him I would take his life with my own hands if he were to set foot in Lórien again."

"You would do it," he affirmed. "That was no empty threat, which I am sure you made him well-aware of." His eyes darkened as she looked at him. "There is _nothing_ that is more punishable than a crime against a young woman. I have seen too much, Arwen," he said honestly. "I have seen men do terrible things in front of my own eyes, and I have seen families destroyed. If there is anything that I can do, I will do it for her. You have my word."

"I love her too much to see her lose everything because of something completely out of her control," she whispered. "And I am… _grateful_ that you asked to share my burden."

"A burden on your heart is also a burden on mine, love," he said gently. "It is late and time for rest. The morning will tell what the day ahead will bring."

"I love you," she said, her voice full of her sincerity, and she leaned up and kissed him.

"And I, you." He smiled back at her, and then lifted her hand and stood. "It is time to say our good nights to baby as well."

"He would love that," she said, smiling. "He loves to hear your voice."

"Perhaps I will sing tonight," he added.

"I would love that, too," she said, and he laughed softly as he swung her hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it.

* * *

Dawn. It was a lovely time of day when the entire world seemed to still be at rest and you were the only person in the world awake to enjoy Ilúvatar's creation. Legolas walked through the gardens slowly, breathing in the heavy scent of winter in the air. The cold did not touch him. He slowed beside the fountain and stared at the White Tree for several moments, thinking.

Enguina was his heart's desire; he had never felt like this about anyone. Never, in all of his very long years did he ever find his heart so entwined with another person. He had felt affection, yes, even love, but…not like this. He had hoped Enguina would become his partner, the one person whom he would have an opportunity to share his future with. Caring for her as he had cared for no other, loving her as he had loved none other, they would build a home together among the trees of Ithilien with his kin…and many children. He had dreamed last night; a long, continuous dream from the moment he had closed his eyes…from their wedding, to their wedding night, to their first child…it had been an excellent dream.

He shook his head at his own thoughts, embarrassed. Once again, he was ahead of himself. Enguina was still on the run from him—it had only been hours since he had seen her leave the King's House, hours since he had spoken to Aragorn, hours since Aragorn had agreed that he would try and speak with her. But…could _he_ not try to make things right himself? Could he not go to her, and try to speak with her about what had happened? No, he did not know what had happened to upset her so, but could he not reach out to her? Could he not find the words to say? Legolas found that when your whole future was laid out in front of you, it was difficult to wait.

He found himself, after walking for a few moments, standing on Enguina's doorstep. He had met her here and walked her here after many a morning and evening spent together. The two of them had come to know one another, and Legolas truly believed there was _nothing_ that could have happened or that she had done that would ever make his love go away, that could change his feelings for her. No matter his temper or what her feelings might be, he had full intention of speaking to her. _Ilúvatar, please give me the words. Please help me to heal her heart._

He reached forward and knocked after a moment of indecision. He was ready; he was not sure what he would say when the door opened, but he was certain the words would come. He half-expected her to open the door in several seconds…but he found himself waiting. Quite a while, even after knocking again. And then he remembered the _time_. He might have been able to visit Aragorn, perhaps even Arwen at this hour, but not _Enguina_ …she was not the early riser! Legolas rolled his eyes at his own foolishness and then turned away, sighing. He would have to wait.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: There are two songs used in the following scenes: "Morning Has Broken" by Cat Stevens and "Lord, I Need You" by Chris Tomlin. I do not own either of these songs nor did I write them. But I did write a third verse for "Lord, I Need You," and I changed a few words here and there. Thanks again for reading!

* * *

Aragorn made his way down the stone street to the guest houses, greeting several guards in the process. He had finished an early breakfast, but instead of heading down for a ride this morning had decided he would go to Enguina's home to see if she was awake. His assumption was that she would not sleep very long today for she had so much on her mind, most of it dealing with Legolas. When Arwen had told him of Enguina's situation last night, he had been angry; he had seen several cases of a woman being abused, but never an immortal. It brought such fury to his heart; if Bragolaur had been armed, and Arwen had not been a good swordsman or he had not been in such a hurry to get away being as wounded as he had been, he could have taken them _both_ right there…in that beautiful place. It made his heart burn in anger; Enguina did not deserve such pain, and she certainly did not deserve to blame herself.

He stepped up to the door and knocked softly on her door. She was an elf; if she was awake, she would already know he was standing at the threshold. As he stood there waiting, he thought about some of the words he might say to her; none of them sounded right. She was going to be displeased when she found out Arwen had told him, there was no doubt about that, and so there would be no easy way to have this conversation. He would just have to—

A _noise_ caught his ear, and he leaned in close to the door, his hunter sense immediately on alert. He thought he had heard…he had—murmurings from within, and then, a muffled cry. He reached down and tried the door. Locked. His urgency grew a hundred fold as he rapped his fist against the door, yanking the handle. He glanced around the street; there was no one about.

"Enguina!" he called. From within there was an unintelligible scream, and he abandoned all sense of anything but getting to her. He did not know if she was in danger or if it may have been just a dream, but he was getting inside there _this instant_. He slammed the edge of his shoulder off the door as hard as he could; he heard a loud _crack_ but it did not give way. Standing back a bit more, he aimed his foot at the lock and again, a _crack_ ; it was weakening.

"Enguina!" he called once more, waiting half-a-moment for a response. He could hear her faint voice, begging inside; anger filled him. If the door would not go down this last time, then the window would serve as his entrance. Flinging himself one final time at the door, he ploughed his right shoulder into it, anger fueling him. He hit it so hard that the lock snapped, the wood around it broke, and he nearly fell from the street through the door and onto the floor inside. Stumbling, he swung it closed; it could not shut of course, but her cries were enough to make him forget the damage.

If there had been someone inside with her, they would have been long gone with all the racket he had been making. Instead, he knew, as he rounded the threshold to the bedroom, that she was having a terrifying dream. The sheets were wrapped around her arms in knots, tangled around her legs like a rope tying her down; physically, she was clearly unable to escape her bounds. The pillows from the bed were scattered across the floor, her hair wild and tangled across the bed and around her neck. Her eyes were tightly closed; she was still within the dream.

" _No…please, no…_ " came her broken voice. There would be no easy way to wake her; she was going to lash out no matter who it was that would have woken her. He knew what was coming…had been there too often himself. Best to not waste time and act quickly.

Reaching the bed, he undid the sheets from the mattress, freeing her legs. Released, she recoiled from the bed, still within the dream, nearly falling from the bed before he caught her, dropping backwards onto the floor with the unexpected weight. He hit hard on his back, rolled her off of him onto the floor and untangled the sheet from her legs. Suddenly, her shrieking filled his ears and he reached forward and scooped her up into his arms, setting her back on the bed, trying to free her arms from their prison as well. It was difficult, as she was moving so much and crying out; his ears hurt.

She was gasping as though she had run a hundred miles when he finally undid the last wrap of the blanket, tossing it to the bottom of the bed. She lay still for a moment and then he watched as her nails began tearing at her arms.

"No, Enguina!" he cried, and reached out, grasping her hands and tugging them away from each other. She cried out once more and then her eyes snapped awake. They met his, and he did not have even one full second before she all-out panicked.

She tore her hands out of his grasp so fast he did not have enough time to let her go. React, _react_ , _**react**_ was all her body was screaming; her brain did not even have time to register that he recognized him. She lashed out with both of them, pummeling his chest with hits, crying out in fear; he tried to bring his hands up in between them, but he did not want to hurt her. It made him slow when he needed to be much faster. Her nails caught him across the throat and under the chin, her other hand tore at his chest. He threw his head up and tried to back away when her foot swung from the side and caught him in the side of the head, throwing him to the floor and knocking the wind out of him as she rolled off the other side of the bed.

 _Holy Eru in Heaven_ … He shoved himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his neck as he came around the bed. She was backed into the corner, breathing hard, cowering, her legs pulled up to her chest, her eyes tightly closed, her body shaking like a leaf, her breath coming out like sobs. He reached for her, slowly, carefully.

" _Enguina_ ," he said softly. She was holding up a hand to ward him off, the other wrapped around her knees.

" _Do not touch me…_ " She could not even look at him as her shoulders began to shake. He could not see her face, so he could not tell if she was crying, but there was no use in waiting her out. She was in a terrible place, and he could not stand to see her suffer any longer if he could find a way to help her. " _Please go_ …" There was no way he was leaving, but he needed to move fast…before she had time to be afraid.

He closed the distance between them, kneeling beside her and pulled her into his arms and against his chest. She tried to push him away, but he just pushed back. She muttered something that sounded like 'no,' but it was so half-hearted he ignored it completely. She was stiff as a board for a sum total of five long seconds before she became a sobbing mess against his chest, her fingers wrapped in his tunic, her face pressed between his neck and shoulder. He moved to lay a hand against her face, and she flinched away, but he continued to press her. He was not letting up; he filled her with his healing touch. She deserved better; it _would_ be better…he swore it.

They sat still for many minutes, his warmth soothing her, pushing back the terror and the chill. She could see the light in the room as she half-lay against him, the blankets tangled all over the floor; she was a mess. Yes, he had seen it before, but not even Arwen had been in the middle of her nightmares, not since the first few she had in Lórien. She felt as though she was sitting in front of a hearth…but she could feel that evil elf in the back of her head. Trying to push him back into her memories nearly never worked.

"Your gift," Enguina whispered as she tried to collect herself, "is the most amazing thing in the world. How did it happen?"

"Ilúvatar," he said softly. "I was told the hands of a King are the hands of a Healer. It has been more useful than I could ever say; I am glad it warms you."

"It is not only that," she continued, tears flooding her eyes again. "It is more than the heat…I cannot explain it." She knew how to explain it, but she was embarrassed to say it aloud. It was what she had seen in Legolas's eyes the other day, what she felt when she was in the man's arms just now, in a kiss on her head from Arwen's lips—it was love. "I am—"

"Absolutely do not apologize," he said firmly, though his voice was quite soft in her ears. "Not one bit of this is your fault. Nightmares happen without our knowledge and we can only respond to them, fight them. I understand how you must react to that dream."

She laughed bitterly. "You have no _idea_ how I feel about this dream, how I must react. You do not know anything about my pain. It is always too late to fight them. It makes no difference; there is nothing I can do. I cannot fight this…it just is." She had spoken sharply, though she had not tried to pull away. But he was ready, for she would…soon enough.

He rested his cheek on her head. _Just say it_. "You have to stop thinking about him."

Her breathing stopped. "What?"

"Just before you close your eyes, you see him; you imagine that you are there because you expect the dream. You know it is coming, and then he appears. You have to clear your mind before you sleep. You cannot let the memory of him control you."

"'Him?'" her voice was soft, mystified. How could he know? "What are you—"

"I know about Bragolaur," he said softly and she yanked back…and found herself unable to pull away, unable to move her hands away; his arms were as steel bars. She tried to thrash against him, but she could not; she tried to kick, force him somehow to let her go, but she could not.

" _Let…me…go!_ " she growled, hot tears filling her eyes.

"No. Stop trying to run," he said. "You cannot always fly from danger, _aiwë_."

"I cannot…I cannot _believe_ —" She was angry, and the tears in her eyes flooded into the front of his tunic. He was not about to let her rage uncontrollably against him.

"You are hurting and desperate. You are in _pain_ , Enguina. Arwen has been worried sick about you; you can hardly blame her. Even had she not told me the truth, you cannot honestly think, appearing on my doorstep at all hours of the morning, that I was not going to think something terrible had happened to you. No man who cares would be so foolish. Talk to me."

His words flooded her with pain as she thought of Legolas. He _did_ see; he _did_ know that she was struggling with something. He had even _asked_ to carry her burden for her. He cared, yet she was so afraid. "I…do not ask me to speak of it, Aragorn," she said, her voice breaking. "I _cannot_ …"

"Then let _me_ ," he said gently. He felt her fight begin to drain away, leaving a broken shell in his arms. He loosened his grip on her. "Enguina, to have heard the story of what happened to you breaks my heart. I understand how terribly you hurt; I feel it like a poison beneath your skin. It should have never happened."

"I should have known better than to be alone on that hill. I should have _known_ he would—"

"Did Bragolaur have a history of hurting other women?" he asked, and she was startled to silence. "Of course not," he continued, "or you would not have been with him in the first place. How could you have known that he was going to do something so painful, so awful? How could you have known that he would react so violently to your denial? There was no excuse for what he did to you; he became possessed, and acted out of desperation and lust. You no longer wanted him, and he took that as an excuse for violence; your love for him no longer mattered. You were an innocent; none of what happened was your fault, or Arwen's, for that matter."

He released his grip on her entirely then, if she wanted to run away now, at least he had told her the truth. He expected that she would stay, however, and he was right. She did not lift her head, her eyes so full of pain she would not look at him. So he lifted her chin with his hand, looking into her tear-stained face.

"You need to stop blaming yourself. What happened to you was not your fault…it was _his_. And every night you give him in your dreams, every night you allow him to be present in your sleep, you give him that victory, over and over." She began to cry again, but he continued to speak. "You hate him so much for what happened, you _fear_ him and men like him so much that you can think of nothing _but_ him. This evil man should no longer be a part of your life."

"But he is out there," she whispered. "Even wounded, he is out there _somewhere_."

"No one has seen him; no one knows if he is alive or dead. It has been nearly fifty years since you were wounded by him. You must forget him, Enguina," Aragorn said firmly. "I know it seems but a blink to you in the long life you will lead, but it is too long for you to bear such a difficult burden on your heart. Yes, he is out there somewhere, but he is not going to come to Gondor looking for you. It is hard to let go, but you must trust in Ilúvatar's strength to give you the will to overcome this."

"I will try," she said and she gave a little sigh. She blushed then, and her eyes looked away. "At some time…at some point in the future Legolas will find—"

"Legolas?" he said, and he shook his head. "You should not be asking that question if you are going to try not blaming yourself." He raised an eyebrow at her. "And even so, even if Legolas knew what happened to you, he is not going to judge you for something you had little choice in. Did I?"

"But…" she whispered, suddenly exasperated, "you are barely _human_! You are too _good_! You barely _know_ me, yet you are kind to me, you carry me into your home, you honor my brother, you hold onto me and comfort me as though I have been your friend for years! It is not possible!"

"It is not?"

"It _should_ not be possible," she corrected. "All of you cannot be _good_ …Faramir is a good man as well…and it cannot be possible that all three of you, and the dwarf, are good. The odds are stacked against you."

"As if odds have ever mattered to any of the men you are speaking of. Enguina, can Ilúvatar not be good to you?" he said, smiling at her as her eyes filled again. "Do you feel that you are so far out of His grace that He cannot drop a gift in your lap? What made you decide to come here, to Minas Tirith to visit Arwen, in the first place?"

"I do not know…I had wanted to leave Lórien for so long that when I decided I should make the journey, I thought I should see her one last time. I never thought I would be thinking of staying…that I _could_ think of staying."

"There is a will in this world aside from evil, Enguina," he replied. "Give Ilúvatar a chance to rescue you, and give yourself a chance to respond. He has handed you someone who is interested in pursuing you, in sharing in your adventures… _and_ who wishes to romance you."

She nearly scoffed at him. " _Romance_ me, Aragorn?"

"Enguina, every man who is serious about a woman wants to romance her," he said with a chuckle. "Legolas has already shown you how serious he is about pursuing you, and you already enjoy spending time with him; let him demonstrate for you how beautiful love can be."

Her eyes filled. "I have seen it in his face," she said softly. "I just cannot help thinking how it could change. I want to be with him…it is only I—"

"If you are so worried about losing him," Aragorn said, "why let him find out another way? Speak to him about what happened in the past." Her face fell.

"Aragorn…I cannot possibly. How can I—"

"You do not need to tell him what happened, but you can tell him your fears. Share them with him; what is the worst that can happen?" He spread a hand and shrugged. "He may tell you exactly what you were praying you would hear: that it is not going to change him. I can tell you that this would be something that would infuriate him, make him want to kill Bragolaur for hurting you in any way, but it would have no effect on his feelings for you."

She looked at him shyly, as though she did not wish to ask the next question. "How long have you known Legolas?"

He smiled. "Are you trying to gauge if I truly know him? I have known Legolas since I was eight years of age, and the two of us traveled together for many years. I _know_ him, Enguina. And if you cannot trust my word—"

"I do, forgive me," she said, not wanting to offend him. "Even if you have known him so long, something like this…something as awful as this…could ruin everything."

"Do you really believe that?" he asked softly, and he could see her hesitate. "Remember that Arwen has thrown her whole support behind the idea and she has known him for nearly a thousand years." He gave her a gentle smile. "The man has not changed." He lifted her chin again. "And I have never seen him look at _anyone_ , in all his long years, as he has looked at you these past two weeks." She blushed and looked down even as he smiled. "Do not fear what you feel, Enguina."

As she looked down, her jaw dropped as her eyes suddenly caught on the furrows in his neck. She gasped, reaching out with a hand and lifting _his_ chin. "Eru, look at you! Look what I have done!"

He shook his head. "One cannot control what they do when dreaming, or what they do when they wake and react. Please, forget it."

"I should have _known_ it was you—"

"Enguina," he began, his voice grim and serious, "I have had nightmares about things your eyes will never see, _should_ never see. I promise you, I know what you are feeling when you react."

She stared at him. "You have—"

"Tossed Arwen from our bed more than once, yes," he said honestly. "Regretted it, been ashamed of it…but cannot control it. Do not apologize for things you cannot control."

She was silent for a moment, as though seeing him in another light. "You should have it looked at, in the very least. Perhaps the Healers could—"

"I will," he said, nodding. "Perhaps _you_ should meet Arwen if you are feeling up to it. She told me she was going to walk in the garden this morning."

"I need to sort out this hair first," she said softly, grimacing. "I look like hell."

"I would not say that," he refuted her. "I would say that you look as though you are going to allow yourself to have a day that you will enjoy experiencing…and it will be the first day of the rest of your life." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Perhaps that is something you should think about."

"Today is the first day of the rest of my life," she repeated. She smiled. "I like it." She grew serious then. "And what if I _do_ think of him? What if I start to think of him?"

"You are not just going to be able to shut him out so easily, Enguina," he said honestly. "But every time he enters your thoughts, you need to tell him, 'no.' And I mean that, whether it is a mental or a physical shout. Do it; prevent him from controlling you. As of today, Enguina, there is only one person in control of your life." He looked at her and waited.

"Me."

"Yes, you. The man defines you no longer." She reached forward and hugged herself against him, and he hugged her back.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for everything you have done for me. I am…not pleased that you know the truth, but…I am grateful that Arwen married such a wonderful man."

"I am grateful that Arwen had such a wonderful friend all these years. I wish I had known about you before," he said as he released her, "but I am more than happy to help you find peace, Enguina." They rose together, and he turned to her. "I _do_ need to let you know, though I am ashamed to admit it, that I am going to make arrangements for your things to be moved to the guesthouse next door."

She looked stunned. "Whatever for?"

"I broke down your door this morning," he said honestly, and her mouth dropped open. He looked a bit sheepish as he continued, "I was worried and heard you calling out. I could not get inside so I…broke the door. I am sorry."

"Oh my…" she whispered, peering down the hall at her front door that was shifting with the wind. She looked back at him, clearly impressed. "Why did you not just come through the window? It might have been easier to replace."

"You will have to forgive me for that," he said and sighed. "In the meantime, do not come here looking for your things." She laughed and he smiled at her. "We will see you for dinner?"

"I will be there," she replied softly. He nodded and walked out, wedging the door as closed as he could get it with a broken lock and hinges. She looked at it and shook her head, smiling.

She found in his eyes that indeed, Arwen was right: Aragorn _was_ more than man. He was a healer, and if ever there could be a message more clearly from Ilúvatar, this was direct to her. If Legolas was half the man Aragorn was, and he appeared to be, she would have nothing left to fear…she would be set for life. Now, all she had to do, was begin this 'first day.'

* * *

 _Morning has broken like the first morning_

 _Blackbird has spoken like the first bird_

 _Sweet the new snowfall, the sunlight from heaven_

 _Shining and springing fresh from the Word_

 _Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning_

 _Child in me hear the sweet song of day_

 _Joy in the singing, joy in the dawning_

 _The brightness of hope sprung by this morn!_

Enguina knew right where Arwen was when she heard her lovely voice coming through the rows of the garden. Aragorn was right; she had gone to the fountain and was sitting near the White Tree, her hand on her stomach, now humming softly. As she drew near, Arwen lifted her head and smiled at her.

"Good morning, Enguina," she called. Enguina came and stood before her, but did not sit, not at first. Arwen's smile faded. "Is everything all right?"

"Why should I not ask _you_ that?" she said, raising an eyebrow and then crossing her arms. "Are you not wondering how I knew to find you here?"

"Should I be?" she asked, confused. "Are you not out simply enjoying the morning as I was?"

"No, as a matter of fact, your dear _husband_ told me you would be here."

"Oh…" Arwen replied blankly, and her features remained blank for several moments until Enguina reached out and hit her in the arm— _hard_. Arwen winced and pulled away. "What was _that_ for?"

"A certain _someone_ came to my home this morning with a bit more information than it was possible for him to have. I wonder who was responsible for all of that information." By the end of her words, they were a bit snappy, and her expression was fairly angry.

"Enguina, I—"

"You were not supposed to say _anything_. _Ever. To anyone._ "

"I did not mean to upset you," she said softly. "That was the last—"

"Not a word! _Ever!_ You _promised_ me in Lórien," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "You _promised_ me that you would never tell anyone what happened. And then _Aragorn_ barges into my home, and immediately comes to tell me that he knew all about B… _you know_! And then—"

"Oh sit down, Enguina," she said, exasperated.

"I will _not!_ " she said hotly. "I have not even decided if I want to talk to you!"

"Then you can _listen_ to me just fine as you stand there," Arwen replied, irritation and hurt creeping into her voice. The catch in her voice caught Enguina's attention, but it did not quell her anger. "I have been worried _sick_ about you. Do you have any idea what it is for me to be your closest friend yet to be completely unable to help you in anyway? To watch you have terrible nightmares, to see you hurt yourself, to know you sometimes wander blindly at night? Enguina, I have carried the weight of this secret, this burden, for the past two weeks since you have been here, and I could carry it on my own no longer. When Aragorn asked me because he was worried for you, I was not going to tell him a lie!"

"Haldir asked you," she said a bit stubbornly, even though she felt a bit guilty at Arwen's words, "and you did not tell him. You did not tell Erumar either."

"This is my _husband_!" Arwen stated fervently. "I have had _nightmares_ about you being hurt," she choked out, and she reached up a hand to quickly swipe it across her eyes, "and I cannot very well hide _them_ from him. I have no secrets when it comes to Aragorn; we share a heart, Enguina. We are one body, one flesh since we have been married. I am…I am not sorry I told him."

She uncrossed her arms; the sight of Arwen's tears served to cool a bit of her anger. "You could have asked me first."

"Could I? You would have simply said no and then we would be in this place anyway."

Enguina took two steps and sat down beside her at the Fountain. "I had no idea you had nightmares about me."

"You were _hurt_ …right in front of me," she whispered back, shaking her head. "I cannot be rid of what I saw, felt, heard. I wish I could be free of the images, but I cannot get loose, just as you cannot."

"Mine are a bit more than images," she replied softly and then she looked a bit sheepish. "I am sorry I was angry with you."

Arwen heaved a sigh. "Your temper has gotten _worse_ instead of better! So quick to anger. I never meant to hurt you; I only wanted to help you."

"I know…but I still cannot believe you told him. You…did not tell anyone else?"

"It is your story to tell," Arwen replied quietly. "I only told Aragorn because I had to…he shares my burdens. He is the other half of my soul, Enguina; perhaps someday, you will understand."

"Perhaps," she agreed, though she was not as sure. "I _am_ grateful that he is your husband…and that both of you care enough for me to desire me to be whole again. He said some things, _true_ things that made sense." She looked embarrassed, "Much of which you have said to me before."

"Sometimes," Arwen said gently, "you need to hear the same words from a different voice."

"He has such healing in him, your husband," she said. "His words were like a balm. I will not be fixed in a day, Arwen, but I am going to take time to figure myself out."

"You are going to stay then?" Arwen asked with a smile, reaching out and taking her hands. Enguina laughed.

"Yes, I am going to stay for some time…or at least until I figure out my life. There is nothing for me in Lothlórien, so the only way to go is seaward or…"

"Minas Tirith," nodded Arwen, "yes, I quite understand. My heart is a bit lighter!" Enguina laughed at her, rolling her eyes. "I am more full of joy than I can say to hear that you will stay. So…what is your intention for today? Are you and Legolas to go out and about the City?"

"I…I do not know what Legolas is up to today," she replied honestly, refusing to blush. "We made no plans yesterday." She sighed, and seemed embarrassed. "I barely spoke to him at dinner."

Arwen decided she would not ask her friend just yet about the kiss. "Oh, well you are more than welcome to come along with _me_ today if you like. I have some visiting to do, and I would enjoy your company if you would wish to provide it."

"Certainly," she replied, but then she studied Arwen for a long moment. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" she asked innocently, and Enguina groaned.

"You _always_ avoid commenting on whatever I say in the hope that I will say more, that I will want to discuss it. That drives me mad!"

Arwen laughed softly. "It only proves that you are dying to talk about it, even though you pretend you do not want to. It is weighing on you."

"Yes, it is."

"Did you wish me to ask why you did not speak to Legolas at dinner? You seemed very down to me and you would not speak of it; I assumed that was the reason." She did not wish to mention that Legolas had come to Aragorn and spoken of what had happened.

Enguina sighed. "I _was_ down. Something happened yesterday and I…I frightened myself."

"You frightened yourself?" Arwen queried. "What do you mean?"

"Something happened and I reacted in fear, but it was…foolish," she admitted. "I ran away when I should have…enjoyed it. I mean," she stuttered, and then words suddenly flowed out of her mouth, "part of me did, but everything happened so fast and I did not know what to do and I wanted to enjoy it but I could not because I had _him_ in my mind again and I was _reacting_ and—"

"Slow down!" Arwen cried, laughing. "Just tell me what happened."

"Legolaskissedme."

"What?"

She gave a long sigh. "Legolas… _kissed_ …me."

Arwen raised her eyebrows. "And you…ran?"

"Ugh…yes!" she cried, throwing herself to her feet and beginning to pace simply so she did not have to look at Arwen's face. "And I _hate_ myself for it!"

"Why?"

"Because I should have stopped him before it happened if I did not wish him to do it!" she growled, but then she sighed, stopping. "But I…I _did_ want it," she said, her voice much softer, touching the edges of her lips with her fingers as she whispered, "I _wanted_ him to kiss me. I knew it was coming; he was far too close to be there for any other reason." She glanced up and caught Arwen's amused expression, so she crossed her arms and glared at her. "Really? You are going to look at me like that?"

"Like what?" she asked honestly. "You are rambling, and you are amusing when you ramble. But in all seriousness…you knew it was coming, and you did not stop it because—"

"I _wanted_ it," she muttered, shaking her head, "I wanted to feel that kiss as much as he wanted to give it. But I…was afraid of what might happen, how it might feel, what to do afterwards, how to respond, and I…did not know what to do so I told him I could not be what he wanted."

Arwen frowned. "You told him that?"

"Not in so many words," she whispered, a bit ashamed. "I was so unsure! I did not know what I felt, never mind how I should respond! I did not know what to _do_." She dropped her head in her hands and threw herself back down onto the stone beside Arwen. After a few seconds, she leaned over, suddenly laying her head on Arwen's shoulder as the younger elf wrapped her arms around her. "Ilúvatar…Arwen, just tell me what to do," she moaned softly. She was met with a few moments of silence, and then Arwen rested her hand on Enguina's back.

"The first time Aragorn kissed me," Arwen said softly, "the whole earth stopped moving. His fingers were on my face, and I felt as though my every single nerve could _feel_ him, sense him in a way I had never known before. In that moment, and from that moment on, he became my whole world, Enguina." She stared out into the garden, remembering, "There was nothing I could do to prevent it. I had already lost my heart to him…the kiss was just a formality."

"The other night in front of the hearth, when you asked me to change," she whispered, "there was something in the way he held your hands to his chest, in the way he rested his forehead against yours…I wanted to know what that was like _so badly_. I wanted to know if I could feel that."

"Did you?" she asked her as Enguina lifted her head. "Did you feel what you had hoped you would? "

" _More_ ," she whispered.

"What was it like, Enguina, for you to kiss him?" Arwen asked with a little smile.

"It was soft," she whispered. "He lifted my chin with only his fingers, he looked in my eyes…he was so close that I could smell him, smell his breath, feel it on my face." She flushed as she spoke, but it was not with embarrassment. "And when he kissed me, it _was_ as though we were the only two in the world, and my _hands_ were trembling.

"But I was too afraid to stay; wrong or right, I was too afraid. I almost did not go to dinner, but it was too cowardly, and I thought one of you might be foolish enough to come after me at the house. All through dinner Legolas tried to catch my eye, but I could not let him…I would never have been able to look away." She shook her head, embarrassed. "And now I do not know what to do."

"Do you wish to see him again?"

She looked up into Arwen's face. "I…I do…of course, I do."

Arwen smiled. "Then do nothing," she said softly, "and do not doubt that he will come to you. Did he not tell you that he would pursue you quite happily?"

She blushed and sighed. "He did."

"Then let him pursue," she encouraged with a laugh. "You will see him soon enough! Let him come to you, and then you can talk to him until your heart is content."

"So…it is of your opinion that I should tell him about—"

"No," Arwen replied, shaking her head, "I do not think you need to tell him now; perhaps in the future, when you are ready. Do you _feel_ ready now?"

Her stomach flipped and she cringed. "No, definitely not."

"Then tell him it upsets you and explain that at some point you will…if you are ready."

"He wanted to bear the burden with me," she said softly. "He asked for me to let him help."

Arwen smiled. "Did he? He is so…inherently good, is he not?"

"I…believe he is, actually," Enguina admitted, "or I probably would not still be sitting here." She watched as Arwen placed a hand over her womb. "But there was no way I could ever have left without saying goodbye; we have been friends for too long."

"Even though it upset you, I am very glad that Aragorn spoke with you."

Enguina sighed. "I am, too, even though I…injured him rather severely."

"Injured him?" Arwen asked softly, looking a bit worried. "What happened?"

"I scratched with my fingers and he must have nearly destroyed his shoulder breaking into my house this morning." She shook her head. "I was having a nightmare when he arrived, and so he broke open the front door."

Arwen burst out laughing. "Oh, I am sorry for laughing, but that is _so_ Aragorn! He will probably go to the Council like that and scare the daylight out of Faramir." Enguina appeared alarmed, but Arwen continued, "Do not worry; he would never tell them the truth about what happened." She smirked. "Faramir would probably tell them I scratched him in some…'wild fit of passion.'" She laughed. "Oh, to see their faces."

Enguina looked horrified. "Éowyn's husband would never say such a thing! And the council, that group of men you keep telling me about, I would _hate_ for them to think of you like that!"

"Oh please," she scoffed, "there have been worse—" She looked down at her stomach, and then looked up into Enguina's face with pleasure. "The baby is moving."

"Really?" Enguina said, unable to help smiling herself. She reached out and Arwen took her hand and laid it over her womb beneath hers. She could feel the baby kicking and pushing against her body. "That is…still so amazing to me. A life…a _tiny_ little life… _inside_ you."

"I cannot believe it either sometimes," Arwen replied softly.

"Let me do something for you," Enguina said suddenly. "Can I cook for you tonight, for everyone? Please?"

"Oh…if you would like to," she laughed, surprised. "Do not let me hinder you!"

"Good; if I am to be here, I might as well make myself useful."

Arwen rolled her eyes, but then gave her a little grin. "You know, if you want to make yourself _really_ useful, this baby was expecting more of a song this morning. Some worship is in order if you would be willing to sing with me."

Enguina laughed softly. "You try to do things like that so _slyly_ , but I know better. It so happens though, that I am in the mood for a song this morning and would love to join you in singing for the babe. Beside that," she added gently, "I think the One deserves my thanks and praise. I have been…very sparing on it lately. But you must choose, as you are the far more talented musician." Arwen was so delighted that Enguina was willing to sing with her that she stared at her a moment, tears flooding her eyes. "What is the matter?" she asked, suddenly noticing. "Are you all right?"

"Nothing is the matter!" she cried. "It…it has been so _long_. I am emotional in anticipation of how wonderful it will be."

"Your feelings are amok from the pregnancy," she laughed, shaking her head. "And at eight in the morning, when I have been awake most of the evening and screaming for the better part of the morning, do not expect much of me or this voice."

"I expect it to be as wonderful as it ever was," she replied. Within a few seconds, she began the song, and Enguina, who had not sung it in years, joined with her. Soon they were singing together, Enguina's voice carrying the melody and Arwen singing harmony around her.

 _Lord I come, I confess_

 _bowing here I find my rest_

 _And without you I fall apart_

 _You are the one that guides my heart_

 _I need you, oh I need you;_

 _every hour I need you_

 _My one defense, my righteousness_

 _Eru, how I need you_

 _When strife runs deep, your grace is more_

 _Where love is found is where you are_

 _And where you are, I am free;_

 _Peace and hope you bring to me_

 _I need you, oh I need you;_

 _every hour I need you_

 _My one defense, my righteousness_

 _Eru, how I need you_

 _Take all I have, there is naught to give_

 _Your gift to me this chance to live_

 _My heart, my soul, are all I bring_

 _Joy untold I will sing_

 _Lord, I need you, oh I need you;_

 _every hour I need you_

 _My one defense, my righteousness_

 _Eru, how I need you._

It was every bit as beautiful as Arwen remembered it. It had been too long, and Arwen reached up and wiped off her eyes before resting her hands back on Enguina's; she leaned over and rested her head on her friend's shoulder. They sat in silence for a few moments.

"I think," Enguina said softly, "the baby really enjoyed that."

"I think I did, too," Arwen added, and she lifted her head to look out across the garden where her eyes caught sight of Legolas standing among the rows, stunned into stillness and silence. She smiled to herself, wondering how long he had been standing there. "We have an early visitor," she said, and Enguina lifted her own head from Arwen's to look in the direction she was smiling. Her eyes fell upon Legolas even as he began closing the distance.

She could not help but smile, her mind refusing to replay yesterday's events as she looked at him in the new morning's light. He was wearing a green tunic today, and his eyes shown with joy at discovering them here in the garden. She could not help but stare as he bowed and then stood upright.

"Good morning, my ladies," he said, taking a deep breath. "It is a _beautiful_ morning, and the sunrise was completely perfect. Did you both happen to see it?"

"Good morning, Legolas," Arwen said lightly.

"Good morning," Enguina added.

"I did see the sunrise and I agree that it was quite beautiful," Arwen continued.

"I was drawn here by your song," he replied, and he took a chance meeting Enguina's eyes. To his surprise, she met them even as she blushed. "You both sing so lovely together; my ears simply could not miss the chance to listen."

"It has been a long time since we have sung together," Arwen said, laughing softly.

"No one hearing you would ever have known, or would have found anything lacking," he said honestly. "The words were beautiful. I shall remember them and think of them often; I need Ilúvatar as much as the next man. But it was most touching in so many ways."

"You are much too kind," Enguina said, but even she had to admit that it had felt _right_.

"No," he replied softly, smiling at her, "you know that I only try to speak the truth, Guin."

"'Guin?'" asked Arwen, looking at Legolas and raising an eyebrow.

He turned his smile on Arwen. "Well, I thought it was a lovely nickname."

"Oh, I think so as well; I was just surprised." She shook her head. "After all this time, I wonder why I never thought of it myself."

Enguina laughed. "More than likely you never saw a need. Legolas has so much he wants to say, he often abbreviates words so he can fit everything in."

"Not nice," Legolas said, surprised to find her teasing him after the way they had parted the previous evening.

"And you promised me," Enguina began, raising her eyebrows at him, happily falling into the teasing role that had grown so familiar to her over the last week, "that you would be nice and yet you hardly ever are." She was glad that she did not feel awkward; she had assumed she would. It most certainly was that he was acting as though everything was normal between them; if he had behaved differently, it might have made her do so as well. "Today, though, you shall have to be nice, as I have errands to run." _Do it!_ Her heart was hollering at her, and she obeyed it, giving him a little smile. "Are you busy today, Legolas? I was wondering if you would mind taking me back to the market today; that is…if it is open and thriving on a Saturday morning."

He was nearly stunned at her words. Enguina was asking him to walk with her…after _running_ from him yesterday? He thanked Ilúvatar a thousand times in his head. Whether she was playing him, she had seen reason, or this was simply his lucky day, he had no idea, but he was not about to complain!

"In fact it is, and I would be more than happy to escort you."

"Good," she said, "because you and I are cooking dinner this evening."

He laughed. "You volunteered us _again_?"

"Again?" she scoffed. "And what did you do last time aside from cut up some vegetables?"

"Really?" he snorted. "I cannot believe you would say that when I chose all of the ingredients for that stew everyone raved about. Gimli was nearly in ecstasy on the floor."

"I suppose it _is_ true that you chose the ingredients, but cooking is about putting them together in correct amounts, not simply throwing them into a pot."

"Well then, you will have to excuse me for my clear lack of help. I had no idea cooking was so complicated and that you were such an expert."

Enguina caught Arwen's smirk out of the corner of her eye, so she continued. "I never said I was an expert," she declared, "but I do know a thing or two about it. And _you_ shall find out how complicated it is tonight, my friend, when we spend all afternoon near the fire." She turned to Arwen. "Would it be all right if we were to spend the afternoon at the King's House?"

"Oh, it would not be a problem at all. As I told you already this morning, I have several citizens to visit so I will not be home until late myself." She smiled. "Perhaps I will disappear like Aragorn."

"No!" said Enguina, laughing. "You obviously have to taste this meal!"

"And Aragorn would be worried sick about you," added Legolas.

"I was only teasing," Arwen chided them. "I _do_ have to visit Asfaloth today though; I did promise him through Aragorn yesterday and if I do not get there he shall be _very_ cross."

"Maybe we could all go this morning," Enguina offered.

"I have a splendid idea," suggested Legolas. "I think we shall all go and have a muffin from my favorite vendor to snatch some breakfast, take a jaunt down to the stable, and then we can head our separate ways, Guin and I to the market, Arwen to her visitations."

Arwen smiled at him. "That sounds very nice."

"I agree, and it will give us a lot of time to find everything we need in the market and then cook it all," Enguina added.

Legolas frowned, looking imploringly at Arwen. "Can you find no other suitable employment for me this afternoon than cooking?"

"Can you find none for yourself?" Arwen asked.

Enguina stood and patted his arm, looking at him with mocking, sad eyes. "What a poor soul, Arwen. Do you not feel any sympathy for him?" Legolas looked at her, amused. Their eyes locked as they had yesterday, the touch of her hand on his arm an electric current. Arwen glanced at Legolas and shook her head.

"No…no, I am afraid I feel nothing at all for him," she replied with a shrug. "Do you?"

"Nothing at all," she agreed softly. She withdrew her hand and seemed to come back to herself. "I am the one who offered his services, yes?"

Legolas gave an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose I have no choice at all in the matter. Then ladies, I think we ought to be on our way. Breakfast is waiting!"

Arwen rose, and the three of them were on the street in moments.


	17. Chapter 17

"Asfaloth," Arwen called, "it is so good to see you!" He was so excited to see her, whinnying and rearing up in the stall as he watched her come down the aisle. Brego, too, shoved his head over the door and threw his head up, calling out to her as well.

Enguina grabbed her arm and drew her back just before she reached the stall. "Arwen, seriously, this is probably not the best place for you. Horses can be unpredictable—"

"Nonsense, Enguina," Arwen laughed, "Asfaloth and I have been together for years." She slipped past her arm even as Enguina made another frantic grab for her. Legolas intercepted Enguina's hand and she looked up at him.

"Let her go," he murmured. "She is not about to listen anyway."

"She needs to be careful," she said worriedly, looking around him to see her.

Enguina watched as Arwen walked right up to the big grey who began pawing the ground and whacking the door with his hoof as he tried desperately to reach her. He leaned his head over the door and _stretched_ towards her as she held slightly back, teasing him. His big lips munched at her, desperate for her touch. She laughed and moved close to him as he pushed his head over her shoulder, nuzzling into her hair. Reaching up, she stroked his long grey foremane and combed through it with her fingers.

"You are just as gorgeous as always, love," she crooned gently. "My big, handsome boy." He nickered and lowered his head, sniffing around at her womb. She left one hand on his forehead and rested the other on the baby. "He is getting bigger all the time." He snorted and rubbed his nose against her. "Just think, you will be the first to give the little one rides." Brego snorted, and then Asfaloth lifted his head, turning to pin his ears a bit, where Brego reached out and tried to snap at him. "Oh, do not be like that, Brego," Arwen chided him, scratching underneath Asfaloth's chin. "You two never fight; we shall take turns, all right?" Brego and Asfaloth stared at one another for a moment and then both breathed out heavily. Arwen smiled and reached out to scratch the sweet spot behind Brego's jaw. He leaned deeply towards her as she laughed.

"Well," Enguina sighed softly, resting her hip against a hay bale, "I suppose she is fine."

"She cannot understand their language as Aragorn can," Legolas said, "but she understands the two of _them_ well enough."

"Would she really be riding, at this stage of her pregnancy?"

"Asfaloth would carry her just fine," he replied. "Aragorn would not let her go out alone, I am sure. If she were with us—"

"I told her the other night I do not think I would wish that responsibility on myself," she said, shaking her head. "I would be in a panic every other minute." She watched as Arwen opened the stall door; as she slipped inside, Brego stamped his foot, snuffling loudly.

"Stop vying for my affections, Brego. I love you just as much," she laughed, lifting the brush so she could begin to groom the big dapple. "I will be over shortly; have some patience."

Legolas shook his head, reaching over to rub Glosbrethil's neck; he had stuck his head down directly between Enguina and Legolas, and Enguina reached up to scratch his neck as well. Brethil leaned into her nails and she had to laugh. "He really likes that!"

"He really likes _you_ ," Legolas said with a grin, glancing beneath Brethil's neck to look into her face. "I suppose I did not know that he enjoyed fingernails so much. I do not have nails like yours."

She gave him a smile. "I suppose I will have to spend more time with him."

"I am sure, if he is anything like me, he would like that very much." She blushed, but she did not look away. He had no intention of filling in her silence or covering her embarrassment with words, and she knew it; he never did. He watched her hesitate and then make the decision to speak.

"Legolas…" she said softly, "can we…talk later?"

"We will be together most of the day," he said softly, but his eyes sparkled, "I am sure we can manage it." If he was worried about what she might say, he certainly did not appear so. She was glad of that, because she had not meant it as a warning to back off.

"You are always teasing me," she said, but there was a little smile on her face as she said it.

He laughed so softly that she almost did not catch it. "I am so sorry, Guin, but I cannot seem to help myself. You…have made my life more interesting."

She glanced up and saw Arwen leaning against the inside of the stall, Asfaloth's head over her shoulder. "You two can go if you like," the younger elf said softly, trying not to interrupt their conversation too much. "I will be perfectly fine here on my own with them, and I know my way around the City." She stroked the big grey's cheek. "Really, go ahead."

Legolas glanced back at her. "No ride today then?"

"No, perhaps tomorrow before worship," she said with a light laugh as Asfaloth bumped her, "if I can roll myself out of bed."

"Do not worry too much about missing a ride, Arwen," Enguina said softly. "You should not—"

"Stop _worrying_ , Enguina!" she laughed. "Honestly, if my mother were here, she would not be half as anxious. And I _do_ miss riding, but everything is going to be fine; _I_ am fine. Go enjoy yourselves! Have a nice day and I will see you both at dinner." Asfaloth snorted and Brego began bobbing his head up and down. "Do not destroy my House."

Enguina rolled her eyes as Brethil pulled his head back into his stall. Legolas looked over at her and she met his eyes. "I think she is seriously trying to be rid of us," he said with a laugh.

"Definitely," she agreed, standing, "but let us not waste her efforts. If she does not want me bothering her, I will have to leave her alone." She gave Lómë a pat on the nose and a sugar cube and then she turned back to Legolas. "I am ready."

"We will see you later today, Arwen," Legolas said, and she waved a hand over the stall door; she had returned to brushing Asfaloth. Enguina rolled her eyes again as she moved past Legolas and into the aisle where he rested a hand on her back as he walked beside her. "I think she simply wants to be alone with them," he said gently. "She does not mean to shun us."

"Oh, I know," she replied with a sigh. "She used to do that in Lothlórien, though we never had many horses. Sometimes, she would go down to the stable and groom every horse, simply to be with them. Sometimes she would invite me, and other times I might find her there. They do make good company."

He gave her a little sideways look. "You know, you _are_ a bit anxious about her, are you not?"

"She is carrying a _baby_ , and she is an elf," Enguina said pointedly. "She needs to be careful."

"She knows when to rest; she will not be foolish."

"I hope you are right," she said with a sigh. "I…I just worry for her. I want everything to be perfect for them. I have known her forever…and it is her first child…it is exciting, but frightening, at the same time."

He smiled. "I know exactly what you mean. Perhaps we can get them something for the babe today; Arwen does not visit the market enough."

"That sounds like a very good idea."

* * *

Belegore leaned against the stall door and watched the two…what would he call them? They were not quite lovers yet, but they would be soon. He watched them leave and heaved a sigh to himself. How was he going to get Enguina here on her own? Could he actually get it done tonight? No, there was no possible way. And he could not be quite certain yet that they would all go after her. The Three Hunters needed to ride again so they would be out of the way. But if it was not tonight, it would have to be the coming Saturday. There could be no more waiting; time was short.

He looked down the aisle at the Queen who stood in Asfaloth's stall, brushing his long, grey mane, crooning softly to him; singing in a low voice. She, as well as the King, had quite a way with the animals. Every horse seemed soothed by her melody; there was a lot of quiet within the barn. He tried to drown her music out with his own thoughts, but found himself similarly lulled by it. She was an elf, and it was difficult not to be captivated by the sound of her voice. It was unnatural.

But he had to resist, and he forced himself to get back to work. No, he would have to let Calendur know that the time simply was not right. Perhaps he could find a day before Saturday, but there was no doubt it had to happen by the following Saturday. He had no other choice.

His life depended on it.

* * *

It was still morning, and Legolas had taken her to a place just off the fifth level, up in the mountains. There was still snow on the ground there, but it did not bother either one of them. The two of them sat side by side, on a patch of bare rock, staring off across the Pelennor and taking in the sight of the Great River and Osgiliath. There was snow on all of the other rocks around them; some with more than ten inches of snow stacked upon them from the drifting of the wind. The sun was out, but there was not enough heat from it to melt any of the snow; winter had officially come to Gondor.

Enguina watched the Anduin winding along the outskirts of the Fields and simply thought about how she came to be in this place, every moment that had brought her closer to this one. Gondor was nothing like she had expected; her friend was happier than she could have ever thought possible; she had made friends with a dwarf; and she was…she was… She glanced sideways at the elf sitting beside her; he did not catch her eye, even if he did know she was eyeing him. The sun shone upon his face as he, too, surveyed the beauty around him. Yet…he himself was beautiful, and in this light and at this time, she was once more captivated by him.

She was…she was falling in love with him. Was there any other way to say it? She _had_ to be; her hands trembled as she looked at him, her brain seemed to fog over and she could think of nothing else to do but look at him, her stomach was all sorts of wrong, and…her heart _yearned_ for him to just brush his lips to hers again. Just so she could feel that completeness, that oneness that she had felt only yesterday. Just to know it was not something she pretended, that she had made up with her imagination.

"What do you think of it?" he asked her, and she had to look away from his face in order to collect her thoughts. She hoped he had not noticed.

"It is a beautiful place," Enguina said softly, and she heard Legolas sigh as he leaned back on his hands. "One of the most beautiful in this entire City. The view is spectacular."

"I come here sometimes when I need to think," he said. "Aragorn says that he stands at the Embrasure and that something about that precipice makes him feel closer to The One. Yet, it is in the wilderness, in nature, that he feels closest, and I would agree with him. Sometimes, I like to come here and pray if there is something particularly burdening my heart." He was silent for a moment, and then he said, "I have…never shared this place with anyone before."

She stared at him a moment. "Never?"

"Never."

Reaching out to him, she touched his arm before drawing it back to her lap. "Thank you…for sharing it with _me._ "

He turned his head and smiled at her gently. "You are very welcome. This place…in the mornings when the sun is rising, it makes me feel as though Ilúvatar made Middle Earth simply for _my_ viewing."

"I would love to see it."

She saw his smile become a bit wicked. "You could…if you rose early enough." He knew the smack on the arm was coming…and come it did.

"If I had a good enough reason to wake up, I would," she insisted, and he looked over at her.

"Beautiful things are a good enough reason?"

"Probably."

"Early morning horseback rides?"

"From time to time."

"Breakfast with me?" he teased.

"Where are we going?"

He laughed. "Anywhere the fair lady chooses. I am open to suggestions."

"Ooo, now that might _just_ be enough of a temptation to get me up that early." She smiled and looked down at her hands. He sat up, slowly reached over, and slipped his hands between hers; he took one in his own and drew it close to him. As she turned her head to follow the hand, her eyes met his when he kissed the back of it. There was silence between them for a moment, hers because her body was getting used to the press of his flesh against hers again. She hoped he did not notice her hand was trembling within his. And she assumed, when he lowered it, that he would release her hand…but he did not. He continued to hold it there, resting them against the rock, still joined.

"I should wait patiently," he said quietly, "but I have something to say."

She could not tear her eyes away from the burning blue of his. "What should you be waiting patiently for?" she asked.

He gave her a smile as though he was sharing the biggest secret in the world. "I should be waiting for _you_. I know you wished to talk, but I simply do not have the patience. You must forgive me, but…I need to say that…I am not sorry."

She smiled. "You wish me to forgive you, but then you say that you are not sorry?"

He tilted his head. "Are you purposely misunderstanding?"

She laughed. "No, I am _trying_ to understand." He sighed, glancing down at their joined hands and rubbing her smooth skin between his fingers. As she glanced down, even _she_ could see her fingers were trembling. _Oh Ilúvatar…stop it!_ She could not, of course.

"I am sorry that I cannot be patient," he began again, trying to explain his words, "that I need to speak before you. Yesterday…at the stable…" Her heart raced; she could hear the blood pushing through her ears. There was no way at all that he did not hear it. "I am not sorry for my actions," he continued, looking up into her eyes. "I _meant_ to kiss you yesterday in the aisle, against Lómë's stall," he said so softly, "and so I am not sorry. I am not sorry that I kissed you."

"I…I do not know what to say," she whispered, but he could see that behind her eyes, she had a _hundred_ things to say. These responses probably ranged from, "I am" to "I am not either." She was unsure which one to choose.

"You do not have to say anything," he said gently. "I just wanted you to know. I could not let another moment go by without letting you know that I regret nothing. It was _right_."

"I… _do_ have to say something," she replied honestly, "and you are far too kind by letting me off so easily."

He smiled. "You wish me to be more firm?" She blushed.

"You should apply some pressure and strike, as they say, while the iron is hot."

"Then speak," he said, and he squeezed her hand in his own. "What is on your heart?"

She looked down at their hands. "I _am_ sorry…for what I said yesterday, and for what I did. Running like that…it was—"

"Guin—"

"No, please," she begged, looking at him full in the face, looking into those eyes she had come to trust, "you deserve to know what I felt, and I…need to tell you. I was afraid. I was afraid of what might happen if I wanted…if I let myself…if I let you try to win my heart. Then, I was afraid of how I felt. There was no sorting out any of it…there was only reaction." She smiled ruefully, "I do a lot of reacting these days. But no matter how frightened I was, I should never have run from you. It was unfair of me."

His fingers interlocked with hers and she could feel her hand grow warmer within his touch. "What is it that you are so afraid of?" he asked, and his voice was so soft she could almost have told him the truth…almost.

"I cannot tell you the truth of what happened," she whispered, and he heard the sudden pain take her. It made him want to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight…but he refrained. "I cannot talk about it…and I…I do not think you could accept that truth. That was my fear… _is_ my fear," she amended, tears filling her eyes. Embarrassed by them, she moved to tug her hand from his, but there was no way he was letting her go. She turned her face away from him instead.

He turned towards her, reaching up with his other hand and _very_ gently and slowly tucked her hair behind her ear. "Guin, look at me," he said, his fingertips touching her chin again, and she did not have any other choice but to obey that tender voice. "There is nothing… _nothing_ that you could tell me about yourself or about someone else or about anything under heaven or above it that would change what I…that would change the way I feel about you.

"Every moment we spend together, I cherish," he told her honestly, stroking his fingers down her jaw as he felt it tremble under his fingertips. "I make a memory every time we are together. You are…" he shook his head, smiling as tears fell on her face, "how does one put such a thing into words? You are kind, witty, strong—"

"I am _not_ strong," she whispered through her tears, and she tried to reach up and wipe them fiercely away with one hand, but he got there first.

"Yes, you are," he said, "and you are the most beautiful person I have ever met…inside and out. I cannot wait to rise in the morning so I can look into your face and see what wonders are in store for me in you for the day." He looked baffled at the words coming from his mouth, but he could not stop them. "I am in awe that Ilúvatar brought you here, so I hang on every word that passes your lips. It is difficult for me to not be at your side, for fear I will miss something."

"Stop," she whispered, in tears at his words.

"I cannot," he said honestly, wiping more tears from her eyes, releasing her hand so he could wipe her tears with both hands and cup her face. "I cannot seem to stop telling you the truth! When you speak to someone else, I want to hear what you have to say to them, what kind words, what love passes to them from you. And when I lay down my head, I can barely sleep because I cannot think of nothing. When I _do_ sleep, I dream of you." He laughed, embarrassed. "I spend so much of my time looking forward to the next day, when I will be with you again."

 _Oh Ilúvatar in Heaven_! Was it really true? Was he really speaking these words to _her_? She hardly could breathe with his face, his eyes, his lips so close; the way his tender hands held her face was all she could feel. His touch was electric, so unlike anything he had ever known.

"I want to be a part of your life," he whispered to her, and every wall she had built around her heart melted away. "Will you let me?" he asked her softly. "Will you try, Guin? Will you let me help you shoulder your burden? Will you trust me to cherish you?"

"What…does that mean?" she whispered through her tears, and she found her trembling hands reaching up and resting on his wrists as he held her face.

"Treasure every moment we are together," he said softly, "take pleasure in your company, enjoy the person you are when you are with me, to get to know you even better as the days pass…to take your hand, to comfort you, to touch your face…all this, and more…"

"And more?" she whispered, and he could hear the utter astonishment in her voice.

"I want to be a part of your life," he stated again, but with the voice of an angel. "Will you trust me with your heart? I will be gentle with it."

"I… _I want to_ …" He rubbed his thumbs gently against her cheeks.

"Then let _go_ , Guin," he whispered. "Do not be afraid. Let go, and live again." He was so close now; his nose was nearly brushing hers. _Eru, how she wanted it!_ His voice was barely heard by her; it was softer than a murmur. " _Permit me to kiss you?_ "

His thumbs wiped her last tears away, and her eyes focused on his for half-a-second before they did flutter closed. " _Please…_ " she whispered back, and there could be no mistaking its meaning. Legolas leaned forward, closing the distance between their lips as his eyes closed as well. It was everything she had remembered…it was everything she had dreamed another would be…and it was nothing she had ever even _thought_ to hope for, pray for.

The moment was perfection. The moment was theirs.


	18. Chapter 18

She had her hand through Legolas's arm, and to Enguina, it felt _right_. In words now, he was courting her, and she felt as people looked at them that everyone must be noticing the difference. They had been together in the market several times before, but not… _together_. It was impossible that she was the only one who would have noticed the distinction.

Legolas was as attentive as ever, but he touched her more now, her hand, her arm, her shoulder, her back, and always slowly, with thoughtfulness, tenderness. He was so _good_ ; it was impossible to stop thinking it. Nothing was going to change the way he felt about her, he had said; nothing. Was it possible? Could he be telling the truth, that not even knowing what had happened to her because of that evil elf would change his feelings? For someone else to have touched her that way, could he really let such a thing go? Would it truly not matter?

"You are a bit lost in thought," he said softly, but even that soft voice cut through her thoughts and she blushed.

"Forgive me, were you saying something?"

"No," he said, "but you keep staring off at things that I know you do not mean to." He smiled at her and pointed over her shoulder. "For instance, there was a very lovely pair of trousers over there and at the following stand large wicker baskets. Would you like them?"

She laughed. "I am sorry! I can do better," she said. "I just…I keep thinking about what you said earlier. It is difficult to get those words out of my head. You speak so…eloquently."

"I hope I did not embarrass you too much," he said as they continued to walk, "but I spoke from the heart."

"I know," she replied, "I am not used to it." Her eye caught a stand full of dolls and animals made from cloth and stuffing. "Oh! What about one of those for the baby?" She tugged his arm and he followed her over to them as they began looking at the many choices. "It will look so adorable in the crib. What about a doll?"

"They are certainly cute," Legolas admitted, "but what if it is a boy?"

She turned to glance at him. "That is a good point. Perhaps an animal?"

"Bear?"

"Bears are…boring," she laughed. "What about a lamb?"

"For a boy?"

"I know!" she said, leaning over and scooping up two animals. "Since both Aragorn and Arwen love horses so much and are excellent riders, their child will certainly be a rider. We should buy a horse."

He grinned. "Excellent idea."

"Color?"

He sighed. "That is a difficult decision. You choose." She picked one and after paying the woman who was delighted they had purchased something, they began walking again. "Do we have everything we need for supper tonight?" he asked.

"Yes…ummm…no!" she said suddenly. "We did not get any lamb."

"Easily solved, my dear," he said, this time reaching out and taking her hand, enfolding her fingers in his. "Come with me." They did not have to walk very far, as he directed her towards the butcher's shop. It was near the end of the market off one of the side streets. As they moved along together, they greeted several of the vendors Enguina had met before. When there was a moment of quiet, Enguina looked down at their joined hands.

"This is nice," she said softly, and his fingers tightened around hers. "I do not remember ever holding hands with someone before."

Legolas shook his head. "Nor I, but I am enjoying it, too. You are warm."

She laughed, blushing. "No, it is _you_ who are the warm one, though it is possible that we are both warm as we are Eldar and are supposedly always warm. But if it is all right with you, I think we should continue to do it when we walk together."

"I like it more than letting you hold my arm," he said gently as they came up to the butcher shop. "I can hold onto you this way instead of only letting you hold onto me." He nodded forward. "This is the best stand nearest the market without going down several levels, and their meat is quite good. Come on inside and I will introduce you. He is an interesting man."

She stopped just short of the front step and tugged him to a stop. "I…do not think this is quite the place for me."

He looked back at her. "Is there something wrong?" Just standing there, she could smell the metallic scent of blood coming from the shop; she did not even need to go inside and see it before her stomach turned. She raised a hand and touched her forehead with it. "Easy…" he said, and reached out and caught her arm as she nearly swayed on her feet. He was alarmed as he began, "Guin—"

She shook her head. "The sight of blood, the scent…it makes me nauseous," she admitted. "Forgive me."

"Forgive you?" he said gently, moving her away from the door and to the other side of the street. "I just wish you had said something earlier before I walked you right up to the front door." He appeared frustrated.

"We were talking of holding hands," she said, resting her back against the building and then her head, "and I forgot all about my aversion to blood. Do not be upset; I am fine." She sighed.

"Can you still smell it?"

She shook her head. "No," she answered truthfully, her head stopping from its spin. "I am fine now." Enguina opened her eyes and looked at him, giving him a little smile. "I did not mean to startle you."

"Startle me, you did," he stated. Rolling his eyes, he continued, "Can you give me just a bit of warning next time? A single sentence would suffice; I would not forget. Is there anything else that you loathe, while we are on the subject?"

She laughed softly. "I cannot think of anything at the moment aside from water…and rats!" She said it suddenly, remembering. "I do not loathe them, but I do not like them either."

He shook his head. "The water was another bit of useless information I learned when it was already too late."

"But I had fun that night," she replied softly, "and snow is _not_ the same thing." He nodded, but smiled to himself, thinking of Arwen's comment that evening.

"So…may I offer to go inside and get the lamb? It should not take long."

"Thank you for offering," she said, sighing. "It will be all right if I wait here?"

He could not resist, being this close to her and parting for a moment. He leaned forward, and she closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to her forehead. "I will be back in a moment. Stay right here," he said, turning away and hurrying into the building.

An older woman smiled at her as she walked by and Enguina blushed, closing her eyes. She thought about Legolas's kiss. The fifth. She wondered if she would always count them, and if she did not, when would she finally stop? Ten? Fifty? A hundred? They were so… _wonderful_. Just leaning against the wall there she could still feel the light pressure of his lips on her brow. She had never felt anything like this; it was so very different from what she had ever felt towards the one who had torn her world apart.

At one moment, her back was leaning against the wall, in the next she was being towed into the alley, her right arm yanked around and held upright against her back in an awkward and painful position; her shoulder howling. It was so abrupt that she stumbled along a few steps before her senses kicked in. Panic took her suddenly and she lashed out with her left hand, trying to turn about on her assailant and tearing flesh with her nails before her wrist was snatched.

"That _hurt_ , you _bitch_!" The snarling voice from behind her made her struggle; it was that same low voice from the other day, the same man from their first trip to the market. She tried to turn her head and see his face, but she could not get a glimpse of him. She gasped to scream and was rewarded with his hand clamping over her mouth. Her wrist free, she clawed again and bit down on his fingers as hard as she could.

She heard him yelp and release her mouth long enough to slap her hard across the face and force her roughly against the alley wall. He snatched her other wrist with his left hand even as she thrashed, trying to use her body as leverage against him. She tried to scream again, but it ended in a cry of pain as he lifted her arm an inch higher, her shoulder screaming, the muscles straining, ligaments pulling in ways they did not stretch. Oh…this was _bad…very bad…_

"Try that again and _see_ what happens to that beautiful shoulder of yours," he murmured darkly. He twisted her arm around behind her back and captured the wrist along with her right in his hand. This immediately freed him to wrap his hand around to her stomach. She froze in place, every part of her becoming instantly stiff as she felt his fingers through the thin fabric of her dress. She found it difficult to breathe, and the stench of the alcohol on his breath made her sick to her stomach. He tugged her a bit further up the alley.

"Let…let…" she stuttered, and she could hear him laugh behind her. "Let me go!" She had thought her voice was going to be firm, but it seemed muffled and weak in the darkness of that alley.

"I've been waiting all week, lovely, to get your scent again, to feel that smooth skin." She heard him breath in, press his face to her neck as she tried to flinch away. "Mmm, still smell like spun sugar to me. I had to get you away from the elf first; had to wait you out…but you've been worth the wait." His hand ran up her arm even as she tried to pull away, reaching up to comb through her silky hair as he leaned he pressed his lips along the artery in her neck, feeling the blood pounding through her body as she trembled. "You taste good enough to eat; your body's going to be so fine. Listen to that racing heart of yours; always wanted to make love to an elf." He dragged his hand back out of her hair and wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing tightly as she choked, her eyes wide and fearful.

"Stop, please!" she choked out, begging, her eyes tearing up from the strain of getting air. He released her throat and she gasped as he stroked over her breast, her ribs, and then down to her hip where he tugged her body back against him, pressing her against his pelvis. He laughed as she jolted forward away from him, trying desperately to escape, jarring her shoulder. Hissing in pain, she began shaking as he shoved a boot between feet and worked to kick her legs apart, his thigh bumping against hers, trying to force her, his hand grasping her left breast.

Terror coursed through her; just feeling him moving against her that way, his hips bumping into her drove her to sheer panic. Planting her feet, she shoved back against him with every ounce of strength she could muster, knocking him backwards and causing him to stumble back into the wall. Unable to prevent herself, she fell into him, too, as he held her arms so tightly she could do nothing else.

" _Enough_ _playing, little bitch,_ " he growled into her ear. Shoving her off him and upright, he continued the forward momentum and plowed her across the alley. The wall was coming for her face, and she braced for impact, turning her head to the left side just before she hit. Her face scraped against the stone, burning her right cheek, but the collision and the force of his body crashing against hers was the worst, popping her right shoulder. Something tore; she _screamed_.

He yanked her off of the wall, covering her mouth with his free hand. "Shut your mouth!" he hissed into her ear, forcing his hips into hers again, knocking her against the wall. Her eyes closed, trying to beat back the sensation of his body, the bile rising in her throat. "My women obey the _first_ time," he snarled, releasing her mouth and twisting a hand in her hair so tightly that her neck bent back, his mouth against her ear. Pain speared down through her neck and her torn shoulder.

" _Ah…_ " she gasped, and she wrenched her neck again when she felt his lips on her ear.

"You're gonna spread your legs for me or I'll _make_ you, lovely. There won't be any fight left in you when I'm finished."

 _Nononononononono…Legolas, Legolas, please! Ilúvatar, please!_

Tears in her eyes and now pouring down her face, Enguina tried to turn her head, terrible pain firing up her neck from her shoulder. She gasped, a quick intake of breath so she could scream again, to rebel, to break away, but he quickly released her hair and slapped her hard across the face; three times he did it, on the third her lip broke open, blood spraying on the wall in front of her. Her head snapping towards her shoulder, she cried out fully before he clamped his hand down over her mouth. There was no way she could get free, and she was horrified, unable to think straight. He began to drag her further down the alley; they were now about twenty paces from the entrance. Her shoulder was _agony_ ; jarring with each step as he yanked her along, bile rising in her throat again from the fear and pain. Tears were streaming down her face as she wrestled against him. She forced her mouth open against his hand and bit down as hard as she could.

He _had_ to yank his hand away. "You _bitch!_ " he snarled, but she was already screaming down the darkness of the alley.

" _Legolas!_ "

* * *

After clasping the butcher's hand, Legolas thanked him, took his wrapped lamb, and headed back out onto the porch. He looked up…and did not see Enguina. His panic was instant; immediately, he began scanning up and down the street. She said she was going to be _right_ there; there were no other shops here, only houses. Where was she? _Where was she?_ Panic took him. _Ilúvatar, no, no! She has to be here!_

"Enguina?" he called, coming down from the steps, his eyes still scanning.

It was as though a chasm opened in his chest and his knees buckled. The wrapped lamb fell to the street, his hand catching on the railing to wrench himself upright, his heart and head exploding in a flush of agony and terror; there were no words for that moment. He had never felt anything like it before.

 _Legolas, Legolas, please!_

He heard _her_ , Enguina. Her voice was in his head saying his name, full of pain. Blinking tears out of his eyes with the sudden flash of emotions that were not his, he straightened, now even more panicked than before. He had no idea what was going on, and he could not think of anything but getting to her, finding her. He lunged out into the street to go to the corner.

" _Legolas_!" He heard her scream loud and clear; looking up into the alley, his heart stopped and he froze in the middle of the street. A man had Enguina's arms and was towing her down the alley; her hair was hanging down, her right shoulder at an odd angle…and _his filthy hand was over her face._ The sound of a slap echoed down the alley toward him and he heard her breath huff out in pain and watched her blood splash onto the stone and the snow.

That blood coated his vision. Every nerve inside him lit on fire as though his body was going to shatter from the heat of it. If he had his bow with him, the man would already have been dead. Roaring at the top of his lungs, he lunged into the alley. He _recognized_ that face, watching in horror as the man flung Enguina from him.

" _No!_ " he yelled as she impacted against the wall. Bruising her head and dropping to her knees like a stone, she fell with her left shoulder against the wall which braced her upright. When he glanced up again, the man had disappeared, and in two strides he was at her side.

"Guin!" he cried, and he dropped to his knees beside her. "Oh Eru," he whispered as he reached for her. When he touched her arm she flinched back from him and then gasped in pain as she yanked her shoulder again. "It is only me, Legolas," he said, adrenaline still racing through him. She did not open her eyes, but she allowed him to touch her, as he wrapped an arm around her and leaned her gently into his chest, bringing her head to his shoulder with his other hand. She began gasping, the tears on her face now soaking into his tunic, her body beginning to tremble against him. He looked up, trying to see any place the man could have escaped to…but there were too many options and he certainly could not leave her. "Shh…I have you. You are all right; you are safe. You are safe." He rested his head on the top of hers, holding her inside the warmth of his arms. She had been physically hurt, and he had been twenty feet from her, _twenty feet_ ; he could not believe it… _he could not believe it…_

 _Ilúvatar…why…why?!_ Struggling not to vomit and completely unable to control her emotions, Enguina lay limply against Legolas's chest. Her head, face, and jaw ached; her entire right side was _agony_ from her arm through her neck. Panic was continuing to tear through her brain; her heart was racing and pounding like a herd of horses, as though it was about to burst through her chest. She tried to stop gasping, breathing through her nose and taking in the scent of his skin… _Legolas's_ skin. She was no longer trapped; she was in Legolas's arms, against his neck… _safe_.

Legolas opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ to her, but he heard footsteps behind him in the alley. He lifted his head from Enguina's and looked over his shoulder.

"Prince Legolas!" he heard a man cry, and his eyes narrowed when he recognized the man. It was the soldier of Gondor, the one Arwen had asked to guard Enguina, running towards them up the alley. His eyes were as arrows when the man drew near. "Is she—"

"Where _were_ you?!" he snapped. He could not help it; it was beyond him to locate self-control at the moment. "Why were you not here? You have been trailing us for _days!_ "

"My Lord, I am so sorry!" he cried, looking much grieved. "Let me—"

"There is not time for an explanation," he said firmly. " _Go_ , and search for the man—tall, dark hair, drunk. He could not have gone far."

"Yes, my Lord!" The man darted down the alley in the direction the man might have gone, and began searching in doorways and looking down the other alleys. Legolas, breathing out his irritation at the man, refocused on the woman in his arms.

"It…was _him_ …that man from the market." Her voice came out so softly that he barely heard it. There were no tears behind her voice; for the moment, she was in control.

Legolas was not. "I saw him," he replied, his voice soothing, but she could hear something behind it, a tight control that seemed ready to snap. She gasped as she tried to straighten her right arm, forgetting about it in the next moment. Hearing her, he sat her back a little bit so he could see what the matter was. "Let me see," he said gently, looking into her wet face. She did not open her eyes, but he tilted her face up so he could see it. Reaching up a hand, he carefully moved the hair that had fallen out of the loose braid she had made this morning; getting a good look at her. Her lip and her cheek were split, blood and scrapes on her face and neck; her eye, cheek, and chin were bruising; her forehead, _the forehead he had just kissed_ , was battered and bruised from hitting the stone wall. His blood was _boiling_ , his hand shaking in anger as he carefully wiped the tears from her face. He lifted his head, staring around the alley, knowing it was too late to find this man.

" _Ah…_ " she winced as she moved her head just a little bit.

He returned his full attention to her. "You hit you head," he said, worried. "How do you feel?"

"Foggy," she murmured, and he kept his hand on her face, "as though I will be violently ill."

"Lying down might—"

"No," she whispered, but he could hear the agony in her voice. "My head is all right, but he twisted my arms and pulled my shoulder." She gasped, opening her eyes to look into his face. "Ilúvatar, Legolas, it _hurts._ "

"Permit me?" he asked, laying a hand gently on her arm. When she did not refuse, he probed softly up to her shoulder until she could not stand the pain of even his fingertips. "It could be seriously damaged," he whispered. "You need to see a Healer."

"Just…let me sit here for a moment," she murmured, her voice weak.

He grimaced as her eyes closed. "You are hurting…I can hardly bear it."

"Just a moment."

There was silence between them for just that—a moment—and then he could not be silent any longer. "Ilúvatar _strike_ me," he said in a pained voice. "I never should have left you alone. Ilúvatar, strike me for my stupidity!"

"Do not say that," she whispered, and she closed her eyes as she felt his fingers try to wipe the blood from her face. "If you had not come…" She could never have finished the sentence; her voice choked off. Oh…she knew only too well _exactly_ what would have happened.

Legolas leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead; six, seven, eight. She smiled in spite of the situation she had found herself in. "The pain in my head is gone."

He _wished_ he could have laughed; he knew that was what she was trying to do, _tease_ him. But he could not do it; he was too upset, too _angry_ over what had happened. After seven years of being in this City, he had never _once_ heard of a woman being mugged in broad daylight. Why _her_? Why _here_? _Where_ had that guard been? Aragorn was going to get an earful tonight after dinner, and this was _never_ going to happen again. Not to her…not with him at her side.

The trembling fingers of her hand touched his face, his mouth. "You did not even smile."

"I…I cannot," he said honestly; the anger was burning through him at an incredible rate. "Do you think you can stand? How do you feel? You need to have this shoulder looked at…immediately." Her body was shaking still, and he worried she was cold now; her teeth were practically chattering.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "You are so…serious…intense." She said, a bit in awe of the look on his face.

"You are in pain, and I…" his face was so stressed, "and I am so… _angry_. I want to find him and beat him until he is a bloody mess on the street." His eyes were suddenly full of rage, almost frightening. "Perhaps that was a bit graphic. Forgive me."

She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, but winced. His hand came up to hold her head gently, and he cupped her cheek. "You did warn me that you often do irrational things when people are in danger and that you have a ferocious temper." He found that even though it pleased him that she remembered his words, he could not possibly laugh at that either. "Perhaps we should stay away from this market," she added, trying to smile.

"I am not letting you out of my sight again."

"And there is the over-protectiveness you warned me about."

"Yes," he said firmly.

"I do not mean to make fun," she said softly, "I was trying to make you smile."

"And you to forget," he understood, "but I cannot right now. You are safe beside me, but it is not enough. I want you off this street and…" He wanted desperately to say 'in my arms,' but it did not matter that the words were not spoken; Enguina heard them loud and clear as if they had been.

She leaned forward slowly, not saying anything herself, and rested her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms back around her and held her. Her shoulder ached, but she did not care; it was the comfort, the safety of his arms that drew her to him. His warmth, his scent, his care…it surrounded her like a blanket. For that moment, his arms were enough. Eventually, she could bear the pain no longer and was reduced to tears again against his chest; immediately, he lifted her from the street and carried her towards the Houses.

* * *

Arwen sat rocking on a chair in Éowyn's living room, Annî in her lap and comfortably lying in her arm against her side and womb. She was old enough to understand that a baby was coming, though she did not speak very much. Éowyn was worried that there was something the matter with her, but Faramir kept saying that there was nothing wrong and that when she was ready to talk she would burst with all sorts of words that she knew but was not ready to say. Arwen looked down into the red-head's face and smiled. She could hardly wait to hold her own. Annî was nearly asleep against her, but she was staring up at her.

"Is it naptime?" she asked the girl softly. Annî blinked, her thumb in her mouth. Arwen rocked gently back and forth on the chair. Éowyn had left the house when Arwen came and she had been with the girl for the lunch hour; her mother would soon be back. "Are you ready for sleep?" She stroked her hair.

"Song," Annî muttered through her thumb, and Arwen smiled.

"All right, beautiful girl, and then it is time for sleep," she said, stroking her face with a finger.

 _To my love song, babe, surrender_

 _Warm and tender is my breast_

 _Mother's arms with love caressing_

 _Lay their blessing on your rest_

 _Nothing shall this day alarm you_

 _None shall harm you, have no fear_

 _Rest, my blossom, sweetly smiling_

 _Love will hold you as you sleep._

 _Sleep serenely, baby, slumber._

 _Thing of beauty, gently sleep_

 _Tell me wherefore though art smiling,_

 _Smiling sweetly in thy sleep_

 _Do the Valar smile in heaven_

 _When thy happy smile they see?_

 _Dost thou on them smile while slumbering_

 _On my bosom peacefully?_

Arwen looked down into Annî's little face and saw that she was fast asleep. She smiled; Éowyn had told her earlier that she had been unable to get her to sleep during the day recently, so she was very glad that she was lying down. Éowyn and Faramir were having many sleepless nights as Annî had been very overtired and needy lately, and Éowyn especially needed her rest.

"Can you sing _me_ to sleep?"

Arwen looked up as she saw Éowyn leaning against the doorframe, watching her rock Annî. She smiled. "I can if you wish," she said softly. The woman of Rohan shook her head and came over, reaching for her daughter.

"Here, let me lay her down in her bed, and we can talk," she said, scooping her up. She was back in a few moments from the other room where she laid Annî down. "Thank you so much," she said, sighing and taking a seat in one of the chairs across from her. "It has been so hard for me to get her to sleep this last week. You _must_ teach me that song."

"It would be no trouble, Éowyn, and I was happy to watch her for a little while. How are you feeling today? You seem tired. Perhaps you, too, should lie down."

Éowyn smiled. "I _am_ tired, but you are here, at least for a few more moments, and I do not want to sleep while you are visiting. You are getting bigger," she teased. "How are _you_ feeling? First baby…are you nervous yet?"

Arwen looked at her, and then rubbed her hand along her own stomach. "I did not think I was until you just asked that question," she replied with a quiet laugh. "I feel as though sometimes I do not know what to expect. Enguina…mentioned something the other day about it being difficult for elves to carry children. For the longest time, I was so worried about not being able to conceive that I never gave thought to what might happen or what was to come once I did."

Éowyn frowned at her. "What a horrible time that was," she said gently, reaching out and covering her hands with hers. "I remember Faramir was so _angry_ all the time. To think it was only nine months ago when they had been questioning you. They knew nothing of your race; it was so shameful of them; and what they did to Aragorn, and you through him." She shook her head. "It was so despicable." Arwen nodded; she had no desire to add anything, and Éowyn seemed to understand. "I am sorry I mentioned it…how it must hurt you to even think of it."

"I try to keep it in the past," Arwen replied very, very softly.

Éowyn tried to move on. "Have you still been ill?"

"From time to time. I know you were not, but Aragorn told me it is different for every pregnancy. I do eat a lot," she said with a laugh, "but supposedly, that is normal as well."

"Feeling you are hungry all the time? Yes, that is normal." Éowyn grinned. "At one point, when I carried Annî, I woke up in the middle of the night, woke up Faramir, and forced him to go out and get me lamb. Imagine Faramir, trying to get _lamb_ at three in the morning! Poor thing. He is dreading that this time around, but I told him I would try to recognize when I was being overly selfish." She laughed and so did Arwen. "Is there anything you are especially worried about?"

"No," she replied. "I was in the stable this morning with Asfaloth and Enguina was all over me about being careful. Am I not already? Of course I do not want to put the baby in jeopardy."

"Arwen, from what I can see, and from my experience, you are doing fine. But…I cannot answer anything about your race," she admitted gently. "I know so little about elves. If Aragorn has not said anything—"

"He has not," Arwen added.

"Then I am sure everything is all right. He certainly would not allow you to do anything foolish, as he knows a thing or two about birthing children."

"A thing or two," Arwen said with a smile.

"And you mentioned Enguina! She seems to be enjoying herself in the City so far." She raised her eyebrows in the air. "She and Legolas appear to be getting a bit closer."

Arwen could not help but grin back. "They are, and she likes him."

"She seemed a bit grim when she first came, but she is doing much better. She is so lovely when she smiles, and he seems to bring out the light in her eyes. I hope that she stays."

"Oh…I think she might decide to yet. I will not leap to any immediate conclusions, but I think she will stay."

Éowyn smiled. "And she and Legolas?" Arwen's eyes sparkled.

"Oh, I think that they might be together sooner than we think. We shall have to wait and see," she said. "He is helping Enguina make dinner this afternoon in the King's House."

"Now _that_ is initiative: a man who is choosing to cook."

"Enguina volunteered him," Arwen laughed, "but I think he would do just about anything to spend the entire day at her side. He is…especially sweet on her. I would think she could find no one better for her."

"Indeed! It is a fine match," agreed Éowyn.

Arwen sighed and rose from the chair. "Our lunch hour is over, and I should be finishing up my visitations." She smiled at Éowyn. "It was nice to spend time here with you and Annî. I will see you later this evening?"

"I would not miss it."

* * *

Legolas watched Enguina cooking the lamb chops he had purchased. She took her time and worked carefully; he leaned against the edge of the table in the King's House, thinking about her. She swore she was not strong, yet he had seen her with a dislocated shoulder and two men dropping it back into place; such a contradiction she was! One moment, she was letting out a string of Elvish curses that could have curled his hair, and the next she was _crying_ in pain. She had apologized that he had seen her like that, but it was at that moment he had finally loosened up and laughed. He smirked as he thought about that string of curses coming out of her beautiful lips.

"What are you smirking at?" she asked from near the fire; she was sprinkling some seasonings on the lamb as it was roasting.

He shook his head, smiling. "I am sorry, but I will tell the truth…you…cursing."

She flushed and rolled her eyes. "Really? _That_ is what you are thinking about?"

"Well, yes," he said laughing, "I could have never pictured a situation in which you would have used such language."

She winced, and he could tell she was clearly favoring her shoulder. "It was a perfect situation. I have never been in so much physical pain in my entire life."

That sentence bothered him; she had said _physical_ pain.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked.

"Yes, when I move my head the wrong way or too quickly," she said. "The Healers said it will be fine in a few days. I thought it was going to be much worse, but…it was a relief when they said it was only dislocated."

He eyed her a moment. "I was thinking something else as well."

"Yes?" she asked softly, raising her eyes back to his. "And what was that?"

"I was thinking that you said you were not strong…but you were today, in so many ways."

She did not know what, if anything, she had meant to say, but she found herself moving away from the fire and into his arms. He was pleasantly surprised to find her there, and settled his arms around her, her hands pressed against his back. "Are you all right?" he asked softly as she laid her head against his chest. He did not even know why he had asked; his tunic was already soaking with her tears.

" _No_ ," she whispered, her voice catching, " _I am not strong_." Memories of the day came flooding back into her mind, his hand on her breasts, his groin pressing against her hip, his lips and breath upon her throat and ears; she felt physically sick again, and her knees began to tremble. She pushed her face against his neck and he could feel her breathing.

"Shh," he said softly, kissing the top of her head and laying his head on hers. "Shh, you are safe now. You could not be more protected than you are right now."

"I am so afraid," she said honestly, more tears coming to her eyes. "I was at his mercy; if you had not been there, if you had not come..." Her voice choked off, her fingers tightening on him; her nails pierced the skin of his back she held on so tight. He rubbed his hand along her back and shoulders.

"You are in the safest place in Minas Tirith, the King's House," he whispered. "And _I_ am with you." She _knew_ what it was like to be _used_ …to feel despair, to lose all hope. She had nearly been there again today…and then he had rescued her.

"I was there," she whispered, "in that street, but I was in your arms." She lifted her head and looked into his face. "And those arms were my refuge," she continued, "and for the first time in my life I felt that…I felt _safe_. It was immediate and…overwhelming. Legolas, I…" Tears came to her eyes again, and he reached up to gently wipe them away, "I have never felt _anything_ like this."

"I have not either," he said, his eyes full of honesty. "I could think of nothing but getting to you, freeing you, stopping your pain. I was more afraid for you when I stepped out and you were not there than I have ever been for anyone in my entire life." He reached up and stroked his fingertips over the bruising on her face. The Healers had done what they could, but it was purple now, and would be for another day or so. "And when I saw you, I was angrier than I had ever been in my whole life. And the relief when you were in my arms…it _was_ overwhelming."

"I did not thank you," she said softly. "Thank you for rescuing me." He thought about the pain in his chest but pushed it aside; he had no idea what had happened there, and he was not about to talk about it with her. He had been overwhelmed then, too, but for a different reason. "What is it?" she asked, and he shook his head gently, leaning his head down towards hers.

"You are welcome," he whispered, "but you do not need to thank me."

"Yes, I do," she replied seriously. "You have no idea what I felt in that moment. And I…I cannot describe it to you; I could never explain the feelings I had." She was quiet for a moment and then suddenly, she remembered something she wanted to ask him. "Legolas, who was that man, the one you were speaking to?"

"Man?" he asked, confused. "What man?"

"The one who you said had been following us for days?"

He grimaced. "He was an Ithilien Ranger."

She waited, but he did not offer more. "Why had he been following us?"

"He was not following _us_ ," he sighed. "He was following _you_. Arwen was worried for your safety, so he was assigned as your guard."

Her eyes narrowed. "Without my knowledge she did that." It was a statement, not a question. Legolas had no choice but to nod.

"Yes, but—"

"And you knew about it."

"Yes, but—"

"How _long_ have you known?" She was not _angry_ precisely; she was irritated with all of them.

He sighed again. "I saw the man for the first time possibly Saturday last week? I have known about him as a guard since Wednesday." She tried to pull back out of his arms, but he held fast. "Guin, clearly Arwen was worried for you, and for _good_ reason. Look at what happened today!"

"I _know_ she was worried," she snapped moodily. "That does not give her an excuse to do whatever she wants! She could have at least _asked_ me! It is just like—" She cut herself off, fuming; she was still angry about this morning, Aragorn knowing the truth of what had happened, but she could not very well mention that to Legolas.

"What is it just like?"

" _Nothing_ ," she muttered, and he tugged her head back into his chest.

"Stubbornness and temper," he said softly, and she let her breath out in a huff. "Listen to me, Guin, Arwen did what she thought was right even if she did not ask you. The man did not get there in time; I do not know why, but if he had been there, what happened today might not have happened at all. Please, there are people who care about you, are _worried_ for you, more than you can even comprehend." She listened to his pleading voice. "Just…let us protect you when we can. Please?"

"Not without asking me."

"That is…that is ridiculous."

She raised her head and looked into his face. "Why is that a ridiculous request?"

"Because you will say no," he said honestly. "And your safety has become one of the most important things in…well, in _my_ life at the moment. I know it is on Arwen's mind all the time, or she would not have asked someone to watch over you. I…cannot even tell you how afraid I was when I saw you missing; I have never had a moment in my life filled with more terror. Please—"

"You were so _angry_ today," she said, thinking out loud.

"Angry? Yes…I was angry," he said softly, and leaned his forehead against hers again. "But please…at least think on what I said."

"I…will…even though I do not like it…not at all."

He tipped up her chin. "Sometimes, we have to do things we do not like in order to protect those we care about, or to make someone happy. I do not like to have a guard on you, but that might be what you need until we find this man."

Her lips curved into a smile as she raised her eyebrow. "And I should agree even if I do not like it just to make you happy." It was not a question.

He smiled back and replied reasonably, "Well, yes…that is what I meant."

She laughed. "You are…such a troll."

"A troll that wants your safety more than almost anything in Middle-Earth."

" _Almost_ anything?"

He tilted her chin up higher, tipping his head sideways. "Permit me?" he asked and she trembled when he did. He felt her fingers tighten harder on his back, again, the nails digging into him as her eyes closed. _Yes._ It felt as though he could hear her in his mind; every part of her asked for it, for something she could feel that was _right_ , to wash away the stains she felt.

The kiss was every bit as sweet as the first one, but with his arm around her, it felt different in her heart, in his. She could feel herself leaning into him, his hand on her face, keeping her close to him. When the kiss finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. Moments passed; either one of them could have said the words that were waiting to be spoken in that moment and they would have been true…but then…Legolas broke the silence.

"I have found a new favorite thing," he said softly into her face.

The moment was broken. She was blind-sided by his words, so all she could say was, "What?"

"Giving you a kiss," he continued, "is my new favorite thing."

Unable to keep from laughing, she leaned back a bit from him. "I thought that was teasing me."

"That is third."

She raised her eyebrows. "What is second?"

"Holding you," he said honestly. "I have never wanted to do anything _all_ the time but I could…get very used to this."

"If I let you," she pointed out.

"I would sincerely hope you might," he whispered. She laughed and stood up on her toes impulsively to kiss him once more, short, sweet. He was so surprised that she slipped out of his arms and caught his hand in her right.

"Come here," she said, towing him towards the fire. He had been so surprised that he did not move from the table and she suddenly dropped his hand, her face a catalog of her pain.

"Forgive me!" he cried, moving after her, and she laughed, shaking her head despite the ache.

"Oh, no…it is _my_ fault. I will not forgive you."

He placed a hand on her arm, worry written all over his face. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," she sighed, and then she smiled. "But I _do_ need you."

"Whatever you desire."

She smiled and shoved him gently in the chest. "What every woman wants to hear!" she teased, but she held her arm still against her side to ease it. "Please, I need that jar open. I want to brush the sauce on the lamb." She nodded towards the table and he picked up the jar.

"And you cannot get this open?" he asked her with a bit of a smirk.

She smiled back. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Never," he said, and he began to open it. The jar, however, proved quite stubborn, and he made a face. "Where did you find a jar like this?"

"It was in the cupboard; I simply helped myself."

"It probably has been in there since the _last_ King of Gondor."

She rolled her eyes. "When was that?"

"A few hundred years at—"

Enguina screamed as the lid of the jar popped off and the top _exploded_. It sprayed across the room, the table, the chairs, the cabinets, and then the floor as Legolas dropped it. Enguina flung up her hands just in time to protect her face, but the dress, her hair, and her hands could not be saved.

"Oh Eru in heaven!" Legolas cried, glancing around the room, then he looked back to Enguina. "I am _so sorry_! Are you all right?"

She lowered her hands and saw his horrified face—and burst out laughing. Within a second of staring at her, he too was laughing. Both of them laughed until they were leaning on the table with tears in their eyes. He reached up and touched a splatter of the sauce on her face, and sucked off his finger.

"That really _was_ good sauce," he stated.

"Oh, Arwen is going to _kill_ you!"

"Me?" he said indignantly. " _You_ asked me to open it!"

She continued to laugh. "Honestly, she is going to kill both of us. Look at this room!"

"Forget the room," he said, reaching out and touching the ends of her hair, "you should see yourself. You are a mess."

She shook her head. "How in the world did you stay clean in all of this?"

"I have no idea," he replied, bemused.

"Is there any sauce at all that might be salvageable?"

He reached forward and wiped another splatter of sauce from her head and ate it off his finger. "I do not know; how clean is your hair?"

"Legolas!"

"All right," he said, holding up his hands to ward her off, "there is a little bit in the jar. The stuff on the table is probably fine, but the rest of it…" He shook his head. "We will have to clean it up." He smiled at her. "You really are a mess, though."

She looked down and held out her dress a bit, sighing. "This is definitely one for the fire. Do you think that you can manage this cleanup?"

"It would be the least I could do," he said sheepishly. "Perhaps Arwen has a dress that might fit you?" Enguina frowned.

"I would hate to dig through her things, but knowing her, she would not mind."

"I daresay she has too many as it is and that she would be more than happy to give you another. I will save what sauce I can," he said, nodding towards the door and laughing. "You go ahead and see if you can clean up a bit in the other room. I will see you in when you are clean."

She looked at him a moment, thinking to herself about being in the other room, in the bath, and having Legolas out here without a locked door between them. Would—no, he would _never_ …and she was embarrassed that she was actually thinking the question. Shame on her.

"Thank you," she said softly. "When you find some sauce, can you put it on the lamb? I want it to taste good, and we will have a lot to beg forgiveness for. I will be out to help as soon as I can."

He smiled at her as he watched her go, trying to avoid the large clumps of sauce on the floor.


	19. Chapter 19

It was heading for late evening when Belegore and Calendur met at a table in Ahadil's small flat. A guard during the war, Ahadil only required a small space, and the meeting place was perfect for tonight.

"Dagnirhir's late," he grumbled, tossing some bread on the table between the man and the elf. "Typical of 'im. I'll never teach that man punctuality."

Calendur's eyes narrowed. "We shall have to start without him then. There is not much time. Belegore, is everything ready—"

"No," he said honestly, "I am afraid it is _not_ ready; I need a few more days. I have not had time to make enough sedative for the horses I know are going to be a problem. And to be frank, Calendur, I am not sure this is going to work."

"You told me you could _make_ it work. That was why we did not move Thursday night!" he growled, leaning forward on the table as his eyes darkened.

"Gettin' cold feet?" Ahadil said rather nastily as he took a seat.

Belegore scowled at him, but then turned his attention to Calendur. "I have seen the elves together numerous times, but I do not think they are lovers. I do know if they will drop everything and chase after her, abandoning the Queen. Have you seen anything, Calendur? I think their relationship needs a bit more time—"

"But we _have_ no more time! My brother will be here soon and we must be far from here by then; far enough so that the King cannot make it back before they die."

"Two more days," Belegore insisted. "I need at least two more days. It will not be ideal Monday night, but at least I am the hand in the stable the following morning, so no one will be there to notice a scuffle took place. You will have to find something to preoccupy the King at dawn so he does not go for a morning ride—"

"I think I might be able to handle that," Calendur added. "I might be able to find someone to cause us a bit of chaos. No…it should not be too difficult; I think I have just the thing." Suddenly, the front door opened and in fell Dagnirhir, covered with snow. "Where have you _been_?" the elf snapped.

"Have ya seen it outside? We're in the middle of a _blizzard_! You're lucky I made it at all," the man said as he stumbled to the table and found a chair, unwrapping the scarf from around his head. Ahadil made no move to get him an ale, and Belegore could smell the whiskey on him.

"Are you _ever_ sober, Dagnirhir? Frankly, I do not think I have ever seen you sober," Belegore groaned. "You are a useless—"

"And what happened to your face, you ass?" Ahadil said, staring at him. "Looks like you got torn up by some catamount. What the hell?"

Dagnirhir slammed his fist on the table. "Shut yer mouth, Ahadil!"

"What _did_ happen to your face?" asked Calendur. "That is quite a scratch."

"Well," he said, leaning on the table and leering at the lot of them, "I _almost_ had our elf today, but her lover boy was all over me before I could drag her off the street. Stupid prince—"

"What?!" gasped Belegore.

"In broad _daylight_?" asked Ahadil incredulously. "You _are_ an ass."

Calendur was out of his seat and at Dagnirhir's throat in an instant. The man's head was down on the table, his cheek pressed to the wood, while the elf's dagger was resting upon the bridge of the man's nose with the point nearly touching his eye. Ahadil and Belegore found themselves leaning back a bit, startled by the elf's sudden movement.

"What, exactly, were my words to you several days ago, the _first_ time you laid hands on the woman at the market? What were they?"

"I…I don't remem—"

The dagger pressed harder, causing blood to seep from his now cut nose. " _What were they_?" he shouted. "Search your alcohol-addled brain and _tell me what I said_!" he snarled, spit flying onto the man's face.

"Remain in the shadows," he muttered painfully. "No one should see me."

"See? You _do_ have a brain. _Use it, you blundering fool_!" He withdrew the dagger, and suddenly lifted and slammed the man's head against the table. Dagnirhir slumped out of the chair, and onto the floor, out cold. He drove the dagger's tip down into the table and glared around at the two of them. "He is the most _useless_ , _infuriating_ …" he glared at the other two men. "Give me one good reason why I should not spill his blood all over this table right now."

"I don't mean to protect 'im in the least," Ahadil said, "but he did at least find out the elf ran him down. That's one good thing. Belegore should be good on his plan."

Calendur nodded. "Good, Ahadil. We are following Belegore's plan to the utmost, understood? There will be no more discussion on it then. Ahadil—"

"Yes?"

"You will keep an eye on this _idiot_. I do not care if you must lock him up in this house for two days until the night we move on Minas Tirith, but he is _not_ getting anywhere near her again. If he saw Legolas, the elf saw his face; we would be fools to think otherwise. He needs to stay inside, or he will be discovered and we will fail; he will tell them everything."

"I have not seen evidence that the Prince would have the City searched to—"

"It is not only him we must think about, Belegore. Remember that the Queen has been her friend since childhood. They will defend her. Dagnirhir needs to keep his hands to himself…before I cut them off. But I need him at the moment, so Ahadil is right…I should not kill him…yet." Calendur looked at Belegore again as he cracked his knuckles. "Is there anything else you need for your plan in the stable?"

He sighed. "I will need at least one other person."

"I can certainly be there," Ahadil said.

"And I will be waiting outside the City by that time," said Calendur, "in order to not be seen. Dagnirhir will have to do. Is there anything else?"

"I still am not sure how we are going to make it out of the City with her," Belegore said, unconvinced. "There are so many people between the sixth level and the first, even in the dead of night…and the _guards_ …"

"Trust me," Calendur assured them with a smile, "I can handle it."

"What're you going to do?" Ahadil asked.

"Leave it to me. Everything is settled then," Calendur said. "Remember, Dagnirhir lays low for a few days here. Get it done."

* * *

Aragorn came to the front steps of Ecthelion and stared out onto the snow-white wonderland that had become Minas Tirith. He had entered this morning and the snow had been nearly melted, and now the snow was everywhere, piled into drifts a foot and a half deep. The wind must have been blowing fiercely earlier, but at the moment it was not too strong; instead, he found himself staring at the moonlight shining down and glittering upon it. It was breathtaking, but there was nothing about it that pleased him more than to see his wife seated on the stone step beneath the overhang with a wrap about her shoulders.

"Arwen?" he said, coming down a step and moving to her side. She looked up.

"You were so quiet," she said softly, smiling. "I thought for sure I would hear you."

"Stealth is one of my main skills," he replied, taking a seat beside her. "What are you doing out here? It is a bit past supper, yes?"

"Enguina offered to cook dinner tonight; Legolas was going to help her. I thought I would give them some more time alone before I intruded, though Éowyn should have been there nearly two hours ago." He saw her look more closely at him, and then she reached out to lift his chin. "Ilúvatar, what—"

"Enguina," he said softly.

"She told me she spoke with you, and she said you broke her door," she stated, staring at the scratches that trailed down his throat, "but she said nothing of this. Did you go to the Houses?"

He nodded. "Early this morning; do not fret. They will fade in time. Remind me, though, to keep my chin down at dinner. I do not like to lie, but I do not wish to relate any tales either."

She sighed, leaning over into him, and resting her head on his shoulder. "I am glad you rescued her. She seemed to be much more relaxed this morning, and she was teasing Legolas before they went out into the City. She _was_ angry that I told you the truth, but I think she finally understood. And I wanted to wait for you," she added. "It was too beautiful of a night to go inside early."

He reached up to stroke her face. "It _is_ beautiful. What a snowfall for December."

"It may be a hard winter."

He nodded. "It _is_ very cold; I am glad you have your wrap."

"I have been out wandering around all day," she replied, "and I have had it since this morning. It was a nice day until the blizzard, but the wind has finally stopped."

"I hope you were inside during all that wind," he muttered and he heard her laugh.

"I am not that foolish, Aragorn. I am with child; I would not stand outside in the middle of a blizzard. I _would_ sit on the steps and wait for you in the snow." She smiled. "Here I am!"

"We should head towards dinner. Walk with me," he said, and the two of them rose and she took his arm. They walked slowly together. She was tired; he could tell. "Did you see Asfaloth as you thought you would?"

"Oh, yes," she replied, "and he was delighted; so was Brego. He was even jealous that I went to Asfaloth first! But it was so nice to be there after not being there for so long that I spent several hours just grooming every horse. Before I left, Asfaloth appeared very sad." She looked at him seriously. "I want to go more often. If I get a bit lazy about it, will you remind me?"

He laughed softly. "You? Lazy? Love, you cannot even use that term in the same sentence with yourself. But I promise that I will make sure you go and see them from time to time."

"It made me realize how much I miss riding. We _do_ need to ride this week. Maybe we can go tomorrow."

"In all this snow, it might not be such a good idea," he said softly. "Asfaloth could slip—"

" _Aragorn_ ," she groaned, rolling her eyes.

"I am serious," he said, stopping and lifting her chin so she was looking at him. "If he fell, he could injure you or worse, hurt the baby. He would never forgive himself."

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "So this is all about how _Asfaloth_ would feel if something were to happen to me?"

"Of course," he said innocently. "What else would we be speaking of?"

"Your inherent nature to protect me at any cost."

"Well, there _is_ that as well," he admitted, and they began walking again.

"At least you are truthful about it."

"I can admit when I am being overcautious. I want you to be safe. If there was no snow and we were going to ride to the Anduin, I would love to. But with the snow…" he shook his head. "The last thing I ever want to see is Asfaloth on the ground and you beneath him." They walked up the front steps of the King's House, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. "I love you too much."

She sighed, her eyes closing. "And I love you." He smiled and opened the door and they entered into the light and warmth of the House.

"They made it!" called Éowyn with relief from across the table.

"We were getting worried," laughed Legolas, looking up from his empty plate.

"We thought you were lost in the blizzard!" Faramir teased, in the process of feeding potatoes to Annî. He grinned at them. "Thought you would have been here hours ago, but the council stops for no weather."

Aragorn smiled, taking Arwen's wrap as she shook out her hair. He hung it on the wall by the door. "Too right you are on that score, Faramir. That smells delicious. What did you two make?"

Enguina smiled. "Sit down and have some."

"It's delicious!" hollered Gimli. "The lass has outdone herself again!"

Legolas rolled his eyes. "I did _actually_ help this time, you know."

"He did," Enguina said, patting his arm. "We both worked very hard on this meal."

Arwen eyed her suspiciously. "You look...I do not know, there is something about you that is—"

"She is wearing your dress," Aragorn said with a laugh, and Enguina blushed as Arwen glanced at her face and she gasped.

"Your _face_ —"

"Later," Legolas said rather firmly, and Aragorn studied Enguina for a moment as well, his sharp eyes taking in what Arwen's had: the bruising that had appeared across her forehead, her cheek, her eye and the split lip.

"It is fine, Arwen," she said, looking at her friend's horrified expression. "Really."

Arwen bit her lip, preventing herself from saying anything more. Legolas, looking up at Aragorn, noticed his neck immediately.

"Aragorn, what—"

"Some other time," he replied, being equally secretive. Arwen waited to see if Legolas would press, but clearly they both wished to discuss things later. It was difficult for her to let it go; her friend had been injured today. Then her eye suddenly caught something else, and she looked upward.

"Is there…sauce on our ceiling?" she asked softly.

"Oh…damn, I missed some," Legolas said suddenly, and Enguina reached across the table and smacked the arm she had been patting moments before.

"You were supposed to get it all!" she hissed as everyone started laughing.

He shrugged, blushing himself, "I did not mean to!"

Arwen laughed, trying to shake off her worry for Enguina. "I thought I warned you _not_ to destroy my kitchen. See what happens when you ignore my warning?"

"So, tell us the story," Aragorn said, taking Arwen to her seat and then seating himself.

"Yes, tell us!" laughed Gimli. "It's bound to be an amusing tale."

"I bet I can see where this is going," added Faramir.

"Well, it _was_ very funny," admitted Legolas and Enguina shook her head, laughing herself.

"Legolas opened the jar of sauce and it exploded everywhere…including all over me, and he really did do an excellent job of cleaning it up. You should have seen it before," she said guiltily.

"Ha!" said Gimli. "I bet you were quite a sight!"

Arwen smiled. "At least you had fun."

"Oh, that we did," Legolas said. "And we did not spoil the food."

"It is excellent," Aragorn said after his first bite. "You must have had enough sauce at least for flavoring."

"I scraped it from everything that was clean," Legolas laughed.

"I am sorry about borrowing your dress," Enguina said sheepishly.

Arwen waved her off. "Anything that is mine is yours; it always has been. And thank you both for cooking," she added.

Both of them smiled. "You are welcome," they said at once.

* * *

Faramir's family and Gimli had said their goodnights and headed out into the snowy City; _no one_ had addressed the bruises, so Arwen assumed they must have said something before she and Aragorn had arrived. It was late, but Legolas and Enguina sat a bit longer as the door closed behind Gimli. They had all agreed to meet at service the following morning. Aragorn set mugs of tea on the table before each of them and Arwen looked at him gratefully as he took his seat again.

"Enguina," he said seriously, eyeing her, "you _must_ speak. There is no doubt that you are bruised and you are favoring your right shoulder. Tell us—"

"—what happened," Arwen finished at once. "Did you fall?"

She laughed, but everyone could hear how hollow it was. "Why is that always your first assumption?"

"It is _not_ —"

"As a matter of fact, I _did_ , but it was not by accident," she said honestly.

"We need to talk," Legolas said, speaking to Aragorn, but looking at both him and Arwen. "Enguina was nearly mugged today, right in front of the butcher's in the market."

Arwen gasped, covering her mouth with a hand and Aragorn's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I _saw_ the man; he is the same one who put his hands on her in the market her last week, the drunk," he said, his voice lower now, more menacing.

" _No,_ " Arwen muttered, horrified. "He tried to _mug_ you?"

"That is not all," Legolas replied for her, and he laid a hand over Enguina's on the table. "He was dragging her down the alley with intent to _assault_ her." He looked directly to Aragorn then as Arwen closed her eyes in pain. "He had her _arms_ twisted behind her back, Aragorn, with his hand over her mouth to _silence_ her."

"In the _market_?" Aragorn said. "Where was—"

"That is what _I_ wanted to know," Legolas said, his eyes growing even darker. "I did hear a report from the man, not too late into the afternoon, that he lost track of us by being stalled by several men; a possibility that it was part of the plot. As soon as I appeared, the man who tried to grab Guin took off. If I describe him to you, do you think you could draw him, find him?" Aragorn rose immediately and left the room, and Arwen reached out and covered Enguina's other hand with her own, gripping it.

"Are you…are you all right?"

"He said some…foul things," Enguina said, looking down at their joined hands. "Thankfully, Legolas was there. If he had not been…" She could not meet Arwen's eyes; she knew exactly what she would find there. "But I am all right, and the Healers set my shoulder correctly—"

"The _Healers_?" Arwen cried, tears coming to her eyes. "Ilúvatar, you were seriously hurt!"

"He needs to be discovered," Legolas insisted. "Guin is all right for the moment, but I…do not want this to ever happen again."

"Eru, no," whispered Arwen, and her eyes closed in her remembrance of prior pain.

"I do not know what punishment Aragorn would intend…I know what _mine_ would be," he said darkly, but he felt Enguina squeeze his hand. He sighed.

"Temper," Aragorn said, re-entering the room with parchment and quill.

"Controlling it has ever been a work in progress," he replied as the man took his seat again. "It is difficult."

"Enguina, did _you_ see him?" Aragorn asked softly.

"No, and I…blocked every picture of him out of my head from the other day," she admitted. "I scratched his face quite badly, though; you should probably add that into the picture. It was his left side; he was a large man, and was only slightly taller than me and he had…" she hesitated and then sighed, collecting herself, "big hands." Arwen's hand tightened jerkily over hers.

Aragorn nodded, and he said softly, "Why do you not go in the sitting room with Arwen? Legolas can describe him to me. You should not need to relive this again."

"That is a good idea," Legolas said, and Arwen nodded, rising to her feet. Reluctantly, Legolas released Enguina's hand as the two of them took their cups of tea.

"Thank you," she said softly, as she stood, still looking at Aragorn.

"Whatever is needed," he said, but Enguina could see his worry for her in his eyes. "It should not have happened…not here, not ever."

She looked at him shyly, and her voice was still a whisper when she replied, "I am all right." But he _knew_ …he knew and so things were so different when he understood her prior pain, her fear. She had been so afraid.

"Yes," he agreed but his eyes were sad, "because Legolas was there to protect you, not because this City is safe. I will not have it."

"You cannot stamp out every immoral creature, my Lord," she said, shaking her head, but she took Arwen's offered hand.

"No," he said, but his voice lowered to something frightening, "but I can _hunt_ them."

"Come," Arwen said to her, tugging her, "leave them to it." She drew her by the hand from the room.

Legolas waited until he heard their voices talking softly before he narrowed his eyes and glaring in disgust about the events of the day. "I wanted to tear his throat out and shed his blood all over the street with my bare hands, Aragorn. As it was, if I had my bow, there would be no one to look for."

"He laid his hands on her?" Aragorn asked softly, and there was something in his eyes that unsettled Legolas.

"His filthy hand slapped her in the face, and then was over her mouth," he snapped. "I do not know what happened before I got there, but she must have tried to fight back or she would not have been injured. I am not letting her out of my sight again…not in the City. I know she does not want it, but I am choosing to be her security."

"Describe him." As Legolas began, they talked. "You are officially courting now," Aragorn asked, but it was not really a question; Legolas noted that it was more of an observation.

"Did you speak to her?"

"Yes and no," Aragorn answered as he sketched. "I encouraged her a bit, but if she chose you, she made that decision on her own. I cannot say how very glad I am for it."

"I have…never felt this way about anyone," he said softly so the sharp ears in the other room could not hear his words. "I can barely speak what is in my heart, Aragorn. I am completely, hopelessly, _desperately_ in love with her. My love for her consumes me; I live and breathe it when I am around her. I know now…I understand what you were trying to tell me all those years ago, when you told me of your love for Arwen. I had loved…but never like this. I am made to be with her, Aragorn, only her. I cannot be away from her side. I cannot stop _thinking_ about her."

"Do you intend to tell her?" he asked, meeting Legolas's eyes.

The elf groaned and lowered his face to his hands. "We met only weeks ago and I just began courting her. Can I tell her so soon? _Should_ I tell her so soon?"

"Legolas, life waits for no man," he stated, "and she should know. But she would be a fool if she does not know _already_ , or she is lying to herself. Even a blind man could see how you feel. Tell her the truth; how does she feel about you?"

"She feels safe," he replied. "I know she feels safe, and…I kissed her today, several times." He could not help but smile, closing his eyes. "It was perfect."

Aragorn smiled, and then, sobering quickly, said, "I am very glad you were at her side today."

"I cannot tell you what I felt when I saw she was missing. My heart was like a stone in my chest and I was in a panic. It was the most awful I have ever felt in my entire life and then…" Legolas hesitated; he wanted to tell Aragorn about the strange emotions he had felt and how he had heard her voice in his head…but it was too strange, and it may have been nothing, perhaps imagined. Aragorn lifted his eyes from his drawing again.

"What happened?"

"I found her, and he released her, afraid of me. And then I held her…she was all right, and nothing else mattered except that she was there in my arms and safe. I found myself so protective of her; I would have done anything for her in that moment…I still would," he admitted.

Aragorn slid the drawing to Legolas. "Take a look. Is this the man?"

"A good likeness of him."

"I will do some investigating tomorrow. We will find him."

"You know I would not ask unless—"

"Legolas, no man should ever lay his hands on a woman with intent to harm," Aragorn said a bit stiffly. "It was right that you came to me. You should have come days ago when she was attacked the first time."

"I thought it was just a strange drunk," Legolas said. "Had I ever thought it would happen again or that it was meant as more than a simple passing fancy, I would have broken the man's hands when he was in front of me. As it is, now we are left chasing ghosts."

"We will find him. Come, it is late," he said, taking to his feet, "and we are long overdue in the other room."

"Thank you, Aragorn," he said softly, and the two of them entered the other room. Legolas's eyes fell on Enguina as she sat with Arwen at the window seat, her head on her friend's shoulder, eyes closed. Arwen was stroking her hair, and when they entered, the younger elf lifted her head and looked at them.

"Enguina," Aragorn said softly, and she raised her head as well, "Legolas helped me to make a good likeness of him. May I ask something of you?"

"What do you need?" she asked.

"I would like for someone to accompany you at all times until he is taken into our charge. This is not random, not twice," he said, shaking his head. "At least stay with Legolas when you are in the City, and I will station two guards at the house at night."

She looked a bit taken back. "Aragorn, please! I do not think that is ne—"

"I do," he said, looking quite stern. "This is my City, and it should be safe, not crawling with animals. Your safety is a serious concern to everyone in this room."

"It is unlikely that—"

"It would happen again?" Legolas asked softly. "The same man _twice_? I think there is a very real possibility that he would come after you again."

Enguina's eyes narrowed. "You had a hand in this?"

"Not at all," he said honestly, shaking his head. "I had no idea what Aragorn was going to ask of you, though I will admit that I think it is the best idea and would definitely keep you safe from harm."

"Enguina," Arwen said, touching her arm, " _please_ , for everyone's sanity. You were _hurt_ —"

"Just like the guard you have had following me around the last few days?"

"Guin—" Legolas began.

"I _really_ do not think—"

"One guard across the street, only at night," Aragorn amended, crossing his arms, "or you can have me standing guard at your front door from sun down to dawn until he is found. Make your choice."

She gaped at him. "Honestly! Do not be so _foolish_ —"

"Make it."

"So stubborn! The guard," she chose. "You barely get enough sleep as it is, Aragorn, and Arwen would never see you then."

"Thank you for making such a wise choice," Arwen said softly, silently thankful that her husband would continue to sleep at her side.

"You will not have guards watching your every move, Enguina," Aragorn added. "Not unless, of course, you count Legolas," he said, dropping a hand on the elf's shoulder. Legolas rolled his eyes, a bit embarrassed, but she still hesitated.

"He _does_ count," she replied. "Is there nothing better for your guards to do? You have so many to spare?"

He frowned at her. "As stated, this is _my_ City, Enguina, and everything going on within it is my business. That is the kind of King I choose to be; if one is going to serve the people, one had better do it well. _You_ , therefore, whether visiting or abiding here, are a citizen of this City and are to be protected." He paused a moment, and she thought he was finished so she opened her mouth again. Yet, he continued, raising his eyebrows at her. "I could also go on about how you are now part of our family, for numerous reasons not limited to being Arwen's best friend for ages _or_ the lady Legolas is courting—"

"Wait! What?" asked Arwen, glancing hurriedly between both Legolas and Enguina's faces. "Why did you not _say_ anything?"

"Forgive us," Legolas began, "it was—"

"No, I will _not_ forgive you," Arwen said with irritation. "That was an important detail!"

Enguina laughed instead of blushing as she looked at Legolas. "Yes, Arwen, Legolas and I have mutually agreed to court one another…officially."

"Officially," Legolas agreed, a smile on his face. Then, he shoved Aragorn with his elbow. "That was _very_ helpful, thank you."

"It needed to be said," he said unapologetically, "and I do think it was helpful for her to understand the way we treat each other."

"I _do_ understand," Enguina said, looking directly at him, remembering the morning very vividly. "I have felt the caring that you provide, and I have seen it in so many ways…and I barely know any of you. You are all so _good_." She shook her head. "It is bordering on the ridiculous."

"I am very glad that you two have decided to court each other," Arwen said, leaning back against the window and closing her eyes. "How nice."

Enguina laughed. "You are silly, Arwen. And I suppose I _will_ have to obey," she said to Aragorn. "After all, no one knows this City better than you. Thank you, as always, for your kindness." He nodded his head.

"Let me go and speak with the guard. Perhaps I can change the one night post to across from your new door." Aragorn stepped from the room and went outside, and Legolas looked over at Enguina, confused.

"Your new door?"

She blushed furiously. "Aragorn…wrecked the guesthouse door this morning."

"What?" he asked, taken aback. " _Aragorn_? Why?"

She hesitated. "I will tell you," she finally replied, "someday…but not now."

"Fair enough." She was shocked he had let it go so easily. "I can wait. Are you ready? I thought I would walk you home tonight," Legolas offered, and Enguina nodded, trying to close her mouth.

"I…yes, everyone is tired. It has been a long day." She turned to look back at Arwen. "Service in the morning?" When Arwen did not reply, Enguina frowned. She reached out to take her arm, but Legolas caught her hand, holding a finger to his lips. Enguina looked back and upon looking more closely, discovered she was fast asleep.

"Let her be," he said gently, "she is clearly exhausted." He tugged her hand and pulled her to her feet. He did not release it as they quietly left the room and exited the front of the King's House.

"I spoke with the guard," Aragorn said as he met them on the porch. "Everything is set."

"Arwen is asleep," Legolas mentioned. "We did not wish to wake her."

"Will we see you both in the morning for service?" asked Enguina.

Aragorn nodded. "We will meet you there. Sleep well, both of you."

"Good night, Aragorn."

"Good night."

Aragorn turned and went inside, locking the door behind him. He went directly into the other room where Legolas had been right of course; Arwen was fast asleep. Smiling, he walked to her side and, sliding an arm beneath her legs, scooped her off the window seat and into his arms.

"Mmm," she said. He smiled, unbelieving that she had actually responded when she was so dead to everything around her. She was like clay in his arms, her head cradled against his chest.

"Time for bed, sleepyhead," he whispered as he carried her towards their bed.

"Mmm-hmm."

He chuckled as he set her down on the edge of the bed. She did remain upright for a few seconds. As he rolled the sheets down, she laid over on top of them, preventing him from pulling them the rest of the way; her head did not even reach the pillow.

"Arwen…"

"Mmm?"

"You need to get undressed from the day before you are very uncomfortable."

"Mmm-hmm."

He rolled his eyes and laughed aloud, tugging his boots off as he moved away from the bed. Yanking his tunic over his head, he said, "If you get undressed, I will undo your hair, lay you down, and massage your beautiful feet." Her dress landed over his head. " _Arwen_ ," he laughed. He removed the dress, tugged his tunic on over his head, and then tossed her a nightdress. Still changing, he heard the creaking of the bed and a groan.

"I am going to be asleep before you get over here," she muttered, "and then I will miss the whole foot rub."

"You poor thing," he said tenderly, and walked over to the bed where she was just pulling her gown on. She glared at him, and he chuckled as her eyes were only partially open. He kissed the top of her head and reached behind her to undo the rather complicated braid she had put her hair in that morning. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against his stomach.

"I cannot believe how tired I am tonight," she murmured. "I could fall asleep just like this." He rested a hand on the back of her neck and unwound the braid with the other. "I love when you take my hair down. I love the feel of your hands in it."

He did not say anything, but finished with the braid and reached over onto the nightstand for a brush. He held her shoulders and slipped onto the bed behind her where he began brushing her long, dark hair. She could have groaned aloud as she tipped her head back and felt the bliss. This went on for several long moments, until she nearly dropped back against him, hardly able to hold herself upright.

"Beloved, if you continue that, I am going to fall off this bed."

"We cannot have that," Aragorn chuckled, and he rose, reaching out to swing her legs onto the bed and tug a pillow down beneath her head. He lifted her feet and took a seat on the bed below her, laying her knees over his thigh so her feet hung over his lap. Starting with the little toe on her left foot, he began gently massaging her feet.

"Oh," she whispered, her eyes closed already, "if you have anything you want to say to me, you had better say it within the next two minutes. I am going to be completely incoherent in three."

"I was startled to hear about Enguina." There was a moment of silence, and Aragorn thought perhaps she was already asleep. She was not.

"He _struck_ her," Arwen whispered. "That was why her face was bruised, not just her head; he struck her across the face."

Aragorn fumed silently for a moment; after collecting himself, he said, "Did she tell you that?"

"Yes…she told me he threatened her, touched her. She…"

He continued to massage the toes on her left foot. "She may be here tonight," he said, finishing her sentence.

"She might," Arwen admitted. "If I were her, I would be here. I was thinking of inviting her to sleep in the sitting room tonight, but…then I fell asleep." She opened her eyes and looked at him a bit guiltily. "Perhaps I should check on—"

"If anyone is checking on her, it will be me," Aragorn stated. "I think you have done too much today. It is time to take it easy."

"I do not feel as though I did _anything_ ," she said. "I feel as though I do so little."

"Arwen, your body is adjusting to carrying another person," he said, moving on with his hands to rubbing her whole foot. Her eyes closed again. "You have to allow for the changes."

"Mmm," she said. "Oh, that feels so wonderful."

He smiled. "I am glad you are enjoying it." He pressed his lips to the tips of her toes and she smiled, rubbing her belly gently with her hand. "Is the baby moving?"

"Spinning," she said. "He is so active."

"Hold on, little one," Aragorn said, "I will be finished with Mother in a moment."

"You have a whole other foot," she whispered, "and I would _beg_ you not to rush it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Beg?"

"Yes, please, please, please," she murmured slowly, "please take your time."

He grinned, kissing her toes again. "You are awfully greedy for someone so tired."

"If you did not have the most wonderful hands in Middle-Earth, perhaps I would not be so greedy."

"Oh, so it is my fault?"

"No, Ilúvatar's…for blessing you with such hands." He switched to her other foot. "Oh," she sighed, "perhaps it is irreverent to blame him—"

"But you are not laying blame, beautiful one," he whispered. "You are giving praise."

"Indeed," she said, her eyes closing again. Then she smiled. "Legolas and Enguina are together at last."

"He kissed her again today."

"She told me. She said she was safe in his arms, and that she calmed down from what had happened more easily because he was there. Thank Ilúvatar."

"Legolas is irrevocably in love with her."

"If she has not admitted it to herself yet, she will soon. She has to; can one disguise love that long? I know it has only been two weeks, but…why waste time?"

Aragorn smiled. "You mean like we did?"

"We had no choice, beloved," Arwen softly said. "We had so many different obstacles…they only have one, even if it is difficult: the memory of a very bad man. She can overcome that if he is at her side; I know she could."

"He could not possibly be anywhere but at her side. In fact, I would not be surprised if he were to sleep on her doorstep tonight."

She smiled. "Enguina would murder him in the morning." He released her foot, kissing her right toes and scooched up beside her, laying his hands on her stomach. "Oh, is it that time already?"

"I wanted to get him while he was awake," he said, pressing his lips several times to her swelling womb. "Hi there, little one." He laid his cheek against her belly and felt an elbow or knee push against him. He laughed, "Daddy loves you," and kissed her again. He raised his head. "Can I continue to rub your feet?"

She shook her head. "No, come up here and lie beside me." She turned towards him as he made his way up the rest of the bed. Reorganizing the sheets, he made sure her feet and the rest of her were covered; it was a cold night. By the time everything was set, she was nearly asleep again. He reached out a hand and stroked her cheek very gently. "If you wake," she asked softly, "will you…will you see if she—"

"Of course," he promised. "I will make sure she is all right."

There was a moment's pause, then a very sleepy smile. "Leave the door intact this time. How is your shoulder?"

He gave her a dirty look, but as her eyes were closed she did not see it. "Good _night_ , Arwen."

"Mmm."

Aragorn leaned forward and kissed her nose; she was already asleep.


	20. Chapter 20

Aragorn would never be able to explain what it was that had woken him in the middle of the night. It was not a call; it was not Arwen; there was no danger. But he knew, in the depths of his heart, that there was a reason he was awake. He never doubted for a moment; he knew, from the time he had been a boy, that every time he woke there was a reason. Tonight, there was no doubt in his heart as he pulled on his boots and left the House that he was awake for one reason alone.

Shifting through the deep snow, he nodded to the guard on duty near the wall across from Enguina's new residence. Captain Mennev was on watch tonight, and he knew the man quite well.

"Good evening, Mennev," he said and the man bowed his head.

"My Lord. Out for a midnight stroll?" he asked amiably.

Aragorn gave him a kind smile. "A brief one. Has there been any movement about tonight?"

The man grimaced and Aragorn turned towards him fully. "No movement, my King, but there were… _sounds_ …coming from the guesthouse not even moments ago. I was about to leave my post to investigate. I am glad you came by-"

"Let me," Aragorn replied, "remain at your post." He turned away and walked to the house, moving onto the porch and reaching for the door. As foolish as it was, tonight the door was _unlocked_ ; he rolled his eyes, though in a way, he was glad that he had not had to break down yet _another_ door. He stepped inside and smelled the fireplace still burning. She must have only just recently put it out; Legolas must have stayed with her for some time after they had left the House.

These guest quarters were laid out just a little bit differently than the other, and so he made his way down the hall to the bedroom. He did not find her, but the entire room was a mess just as it would have been had he found her _after_ the nightmare instead of during it this morning; the sheets were scattered about, the pillows flung, one set of curtains down. None of this bothered him so much as the blood on them and the floor…it was too much for her to have only scratched herself. This was worse…this was _different_.

Aragorn turned, now more urgent, knowing there was only one place left to look for her. "Enguina?" he said softly, not calling, not in a panic. She needed someone who was calm, soothing. He would find her easily enough. Following the trail, he laid a hand on the bath door and pushed it open gently.

She was there: lying against the wall, her whole body shaking, her hair hanging down over her face in sweaty clumps, the right shoulder of her nightdress torn, her legs exposed to the knees, both of them bruised from the alley. He saw all of that and more. A _dagger_ in her bloody hands, the blade caught between her trembling fingers, her right arm sliced open across her bicep. A pot on the floor where she had been vomiting moments before. She was _weeping_.

He crouched low before her, on one knee, holding out a hand. "Give that to me, _aiwë,_ " he said tenderly, looking into her bruised face, her eyes tightly closed. Some part of her, no matter how small, heard him, and she slowly held out her trembling, bloody hands toward him. Carefully, he removed her fingers from the blade and put it aside, holding her hands in one of his own. The other he slowly set on her knee as he scooted closer to her shaking form. " _Come here to me_ ," he whispered.

She broke down, pain emanating from her in waves as she half-fell, half-shuffled into his arms. With one he cradled her, with the other, he inspected the wound on her arm; deep, painful, possibly needing to be stitched. "Shh…it will all be all right, _aiwë_. It was a dream, a terrible dream. You are safe…safe. You will sleep in peace tonight, at the House. I will take you; breathe…breathe."

His gift was enough to warm her for the moment; her trembling was easing as he lifted her from the floor. She lay, barely lucid against his chest, and he covered her with a blanket before he carried her from the guesthouse. As soon as Mennev saw him, he stepped forward.

"Is she ill?"

"Yes," Aragorn replied, and it was not far from the truth, "I am taking her back to the King's House. Stay at your post; close up the house and make sure no one enters it. If the Prince comes in the morning, tell him to come to the King's House."

"Yes, my Lord. Is there nothing else I can do?"

"You are doing it, Captain," he said. "Thank you." He turned and made the short trek to the King's House. By the time he arrived, Enguina's tears had stopped, but she was silent, exhausted from her fear, and her face was full of pain; she was trembling again. He entered the House quietly, but found Arwen already in the doorway; he had left the House, and she knew right where he had gone. He could hear the kettle on and a fire lit in the hearth. Arwen was watching him.

"Come," he said softly, "sit with her. I need to prepare some herbs."

"Bring her to the bath," she replied, reaching out and touching her forehead. She then gently removed the blanket, and saw her hands and arm. " _Oh…Enguina_ …" The older elf's eyes opened slightly.

"I thought," she muttered, her voice breaking, "that I could defend myself, but I grabbed the dagger in my sleep...and…and… _I am such a fool_."

"Shh…" she said, walking beside Aragorn as he carried her into the bath. "Shh, you are not a fool." Aragorn carefully set her down beside the tub and began running water and heating it as well. Enguina's face flooded with tears again, her bleeding hands limp in her lap as Arwen held her upright.

" _He was taking me…_ " Enguina cried, and Arwen cradled her to her chest.

"Shh… _Ilúvatar, Enguina you are safe_ ," she whispered, and Aragorn reached over and placed his hand in Enguina's hair.

" _He was taking me…that man…against that wall in the alley…and…and…and Legolas was there; he saw and then it was Bragolaur, and it was_ _ **real**_ _and there was that_ _ **pain**_ …"

Arwen choked on the sob in her own throat as Enguina broke down in tears against her chest.

" _Aiwë_ ," Aragorn added, "he cannot hurt you here. You are safe, _safe_." He stood, leaving the room for a moment to gather some clothes for her out of Arwen's things. He returned only a few moments later and laid them aside. Touching the back of Arwen's head, he whispered, "I will be just outside. When you are ready—"

"I will," she whispered back. He stepped out and closed the door so that it was cracked in case he needed to get inside in a hurry.

It was almost an hour before Arwen called for him; she could not help Enguina to her feet herself and she was in no condition to walk anywhere. He entered the bath and she did not quite meet his eyes, but she was wrapped in a blanket, she was warm, and she appeared a bit more calm, dressed in one of Arwen's nightdresses and wet-haired. He crouched down beside her.

"Let me see to this arm," he said, and she looked into his eyes.

"Leave it," she whispered. "It is my—"

"I thought I told you," he said very clearly, "that we cannot control how we react to our dreams?" He lifted her and carried her out to the rocking chair that she had been in last night. "How are your hands?"

"Sore," she whispered, leaning her head back against the chair as Arwen hovered near Aragorn's seat, providing him with an herb-soaked cloth. He gently laid it over the wound and whispered something Enguina did not understand.

She hissed as the herbal mixture seeped into the deep gash, but in the meantime, she felt Arwen take her hands and begin wrapping them with a similar mixture. Initially, the pain was sharp, but within a few minutes, she felt relief. If she spoke to Aragorn, she knew he would not respond. Whatever he was doing with her arm engrossed his complete attention. She turned her head slowly towards her left arm where Arwen had her hand laying against her skin. Her shoulder ached, but she met Arwen's eyes.

"Aragorn told me," she muttered, her eyes only half-open, "that he… _dreams_ …like I do."

The expression on Arwen's face told all. "Sometimes."

"Has he…has he really thrown you from the bed?"

Enguina could tell she did not want to answer that. "There are some things, love, that never should happen to a person… _ever_." She was whispering a reply, almost as if she did not want Aragorn to hear her. "There are battles and pains and agonies that, Eru forbid, I should ever know anything about or come to understand. Aragorn does not wish me to know, and so he does not tell me." She hesitated, and then released her tension. "But what he told you is truth…he has thrown me from the bed."

"Did he ever…did he ever hurt you?"

"It hurt to hit the floor," she said wryly, but though Enguina knew she was teasing her, she also knew that was the only answer she was going to get. And from that answer, she also knew the truth.

"He hates himself for them," Enguina stated.

"He cannot stop them," Arwen said, staring into her eyes. "Neither can you. They will come, and they will go…and they will still hurt."

"I thought…I thought that if I said yes to courting Legolas that…that they would…stop." She said it so sadly that Arwen's heart clenched within her chest.

She took Enguina's wrapped hands. "You have to give them time. Enguina, something terrible happened to you today, something just as terrible as before. It was no different; it was an assault. The dream was bound to come tonight, to haunt you, to hurt you. But…it _was_ only a dream."

"And I am safe," Enguina repeated the words and Arwen nodded.

"And you will stay here tonight," Enguina heard Aragorn murmur and she closed her eyes.

"I…I wish…"

"What is it?" Arwen asked softly.

Enguina blushed a little bit. "I wish I could have Legolas's arms here."

Arwen smiled, reaching up to stroke her cheek. " _Only_ his arms?"

"Yes," she said tiredly, "because I would never want him to see me like this."

"Sometimes," Arwen whispered, even painfully, "it is in our deepest pain, our most vulnerable moments, when we are carried by Ilúvatar, that we need to share with another person so we can be completely understood, loved. There will come a day when the last thing you will want to do is tell another soul about your agony, and then you will find that it was the biggest blessing of your life to do it. You will not regret the telling; you will find joy in each other because of it."

She opened her eyes and looked into Arwen's face. "So you think, someday, I will share this with Legolas and take joy in the telling?"

"No, not in the telling," she disagreed. "Joy because the one who loves and adores and cares for you beyond life, beyond doubt, beyond _everything_ can now share your burden…and help you find peace." Enguina's eyes filled with tears.

"How will I know when that moment comes?"

Arwen smiled gently. "It will not be tomorrow," she admitted.

Enguina felt a pinch on her arm and she turned her head to look at what Aragorn was doing. He had tied a bandage over the cut, but it felt a thousand times better; even her shoulder did.

"It is healing," he said. "The wound should be closed by morning, and the cuts on your hands." He tilted her chin down so he could see the bruising on her face. "It might heal the bruising as well, but you need to get some rest to receive the full benefit."

"I do not know how to thank you," she whispered, and she glanced at Arwen as well. "I do not deserve kindness like you have shown me."

"Do not thank me," he replied, rising to clean up the mess they had made of the room.

"I should go and rest then," Enguina said, beginning to rise.

"You are staying here tonight," he stated again. "The only question is where."

"I cannot impose—"

"There is no question of imposition," Arwen said firmly.

"Then I will be very comfortable on the window seat, please," she whispered. Aragorn nodded, and went into the other room to collect some blankets and a pillow for her. Arwen lifted her hands and kissed them both. "One day, I will find a way to repay you."

She shook her head. "You are family," she said, "and you have always been. Be a more gracious receiver." Arwen smiled at her. "We love you; let us care for you."

She drank some tea; they did not talk very much. When she finally laid down to sleep, she could not prevent the tears from filling her eyes as she watched the glow of the fire against the opposite wall. She knew she would be safe here, but she was sad. She wished, she prayed with all her heart that she could be free of this memory, this pain…but it was all she felt. Arwen sat beside her, stroking her hair, and Aragorn sat in the chair she had left, watching them silently.

"Do not cry, dearest," Arwen said gently, and Enguina sighed.

"I just wish it would go away…that I would stop having these evil dreams."

Arwen smiled at her as Enguina lifted her eyes to hers. "Close your eyes, and think of a new day dawning. Think of riding horses and playing in the snow and Legolas…think about his kiss," she whispered. "I bet it would not be too difficult to think of him and stay focused on that kiss."

Her cheeks got a bit more color. "No, you are right, it would not be difficult. But it was not his lips I was thinking of. It was his warmth, his presence, that I wish I had."

"I could easily—" She shook her head as Arwen stroked her hair again.

"No…not like this. I will see him in the morning," she said tiredly.

"Sleep, Enguina," Aragorn said from the chair. "With the morning light will come a new day."

"Service in the morning?" she asked and Arwen bent over to kiss her forehead.

"Yes," she replied, "we will wake you."

Under their watchful eyes, it did not take Enguina long to fall asleep in peace.

* * *

"No, you do _not_!"

Enguina was tugged over onto her left side laughing and screaming into the drifted snow, as Legolas's hands snatched her around the waist. The snow fluffed out all around her, spraying him in the face. He released her as soon as she fell, but left a hand on her waist, keeping her in place.

"Let me go!" she laughed as she looked up at him.

"Absolutely not! You threw snow at me and you thought you would get away with it?" He snorted. "There are consequences for such acts." She suddenly found him tickling her and she wriggled away, barely able to breathe. "Oh, did I discover something?" he teased.

"Legolas, _please!_ " His hands stilled and she shoved him in the chest as he laughed at her, hair covered in snow, face flushed with laughter. She stared at him, trying to catch her breath, but with a smile on her face. "You are so mean."

" _Me_?" he said indignantly. "I am not the one who threw the first snow."

"But you were the one who made that comment about my hair being covered in sauce yesterday."

" _You_ brought it up!"

" _You_ are ridiculous!" He was lying in the snow beside her, one arm trapped underneath her from dragging her down into the snow. She tried to get up, but he caught her shoulder with the other hand and pushed her back down, not ungently. "Uh!" she huffed when she hit the snow again and she turned her head to glare at him. "Honestly! If you shove me back into the snow again like that—"

"You will what? What are you going to do to me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Is there punishment involved?"

"There will be!" she cried. "What if I do not speak to you for the rest of the day?"

"It will be an awfully quiet return journey to the Citadel."

He looked into her face, studying it. When he had entered the King's House this morning after speaking with Captain Mennev, he knew that they were exhausted and that Enguina was with them. No, he did not know all the details, but simply by looking at her face, he knew it had not been pretty. She had still been asleep on the divan, and so he had sat with her and stroked the side of her face until she had woken up. Her eyes had been tired, but so _green_ and vibrant…and to his pleasant surprise, she had been glad to see him.

After the service this morning and spending some time with Aragorn and Arwen in the stable visiting the horses, they had ridden all the way out along the wall. When they had been out long enough, they began to follow the Anduin back to the City before they found a good place to stop where the sycamores grew tall and strong. They had then spent half-an-hour or so climbing among their branches and laughing at one another. Legolas had been swinging about by his arms and fallen into a drift of snow which had nearly caused her to fall out of the tree she had been in for laughing so hard. He was afraid she had injured herself, but she said quite clearly that she was perfectly fine. They had far too much fun in this deep snow, even if they were getting a bit cold and wet.

Lifting the hand from her waist, he picked up her hand in his own, his eyes taking in the cuts she had caused to them. They were closed, but they were an angry red; he wondered if they hurt. He dragged his fingers lazily along hers and then slowly traced the cuts on her hand.

"That tickles," she whispered.

"You hurt yourself last night, after I left."

"I am all right," she said, and he recognized very well that she had avoided what he said.

"Now," he agreed, but continued to look at her.

She looked away from him for a moment. "Let it go, Legolas."

He had to be patient, but it was the most frustrating thing in the world. He wanted to help her so badly, and yet, she refused him. "If that is your wish." He pressed his lips to her palm and then met her eyes.

"For now," she replied, and then suddenly looked back at him with a shy smile. "Want to make snow Valar with me?"

He tugged his arm from beneath her so he could lean on it beside her and lifted his other hand to stroke her hair back from her face, looking into her green eyes. "Would it be blasphemous to say," he began softly, "that one of the Valar is already in the snow?"

"Yes," she said softly, her eyes shining at him. But he could see her flush with pleasure at his words. "But I suppose there would only be one Valar anyway…the other would be a troll."

He burst out laughing. "And you tell me that _I_ am mean?"

"You were mean first, therefore…troll," she pointed out.

Silence fell between them and she could almost _feel_ the teasing leave the moment; he stroked her face again, and did it three, even four more times before his hand hesitated on her face. "Ilúvatar," he said and she could hear the tenderness in his voice, "you are so unbelievably beautiful. There are no words to describe how beautiful you are right now…in this moment."

She had thought days ago that the first time Legolas would tell her she was fair she would get a sick feeling in her stomach and tell him to stop. But she discovered, just as she had the first time, that she felt nothing but delight at him. His words were based on what he saw in her, in the moment, as he had said. And he _meant_ the words, they were not said to seduce her. He drew close to her, and she found she wanted nothing more than his lips pressed to hers, snowflakes falling down around them and lighting in his hair.

Legolas knew when he kissed her this time that there was no going back. He was going to tell her, right now, how he had been feeling since the first moment he had laid eyes on her, what he felt yesterday when he held her against him, what he had felt last night before he had kissed her and released her hand so she could rest, the powerful feeling that had come over him in church this morning as he listened to her voice. No, there was no going back. His forehead pressed to hers, he said the words he had been feeling.

"Guin," he whispered, drawing back just far enough to be able to look in her eyes, "I am in love with you. If it is too soon to declare myself, you will have to forgive me. I…leave your side, and I think of nothing but you until we are together again." He laughed softly. "It might be mad, well…it _is_ mad, but it is the truth. My heart is completely captivated by everything you are. I love you and I am in love with you. I want you to know…I _need_ you to know."

She reached up and laid a hand against his face. "Legolas, I…" She hesitated, wanting to say what she meant, but unsure if she could. He had been honest with her; could she not be honest with him?

Looking at her, he was not certain what her silence was about, and he could not bear to have it unfilled. "It is all right…if you do not feel what I feel for you," he said softly, even though he felt his heart seem to shrivel in his chest, "but I could not hold back my feelings for you one moment more. My heart was bursting and I had to tell you. Please, do not feel pressured to—"

"What I feel…Legolas…" she whispered, nearly breathless, "what I feel I can barely express. You have moved me to a place I have never been, have never felt before. Is _this_ love? Is this what it feels like?" Her voice was in awe as her eyes met his. "I have never felt this way; I have lived for thousands of years and never felt for another person what is in my heart for you this moment. When you touch me, I am not afraid. You are the most…the gentlest person I have ever met, yet you are full of humor and can make me laugh and be full of joy. What I feel for you…it must be love…it _must_.

"I was supposed to be riding to the Grey Havens…and yet here I am, lying in the snow near the Anduin, beside you, touching your face. Ilúvatar knew the reason for my coming…and, now, I think my eyes have been opened as well." She slipped her hand around the back of his neck, drawing him closer to her. "Perhaps you are right," she whispered, "perhaps we _are_ fools to be declaring ourselves when we have known each other only a short period of time. But if this is foolish then let us be fools."

"I know what I want," he told her as he rested his brow against hers again. "I can be nowhere else but at your side, to love you, to protect you."

Enguina could smell his sweet breath on her face and could deny her desire to kiss him no longer. " _Legolas, I love you, too_." She leaned into him, pressing her lips gently to his.

Legolas found that the woman he loved was never going to stop surprising him. When she eased back from him, he stroked the hair out of her face again. "I hoped I would not regret telling you," he said with a gentle smile.

She laughed suddenly. "I hope you will not in the near future. I do not know about anything else."

"We do not have to make any plans for that just now," he told her. "It is enough to have told each other how we feel."

"There is so much about you, Legolas, that draws me in," she said. "It is almost as though you have always known just what to say to put my heart at ease." She smiled at him, leaning back into the snow. "Arwen was so _right_ about you."

His eyebrow rose. "Arwen, a matchmaker? I would have never believed it possible."

She laughed, dropping her hand from his neck to his chest, over his heart. "She said you had a good heart, and that you were a good man. She encouraged me to trust you." She looked away from his eyes for a moment, and he could tell her thoughts were rushing through her head.

"She…knows me quite well."

"There was a time, Legolas, when I was…I was hurt by someone, and I…" she hesitated, and then raised her head to look into his face. "I trusted no man."

He knew very well she had no intention of dwelling on that subject, so he pushed himself upright from the snow mound they were laying in. "I am glad that you chose to trust me with your heart. I promise…I will never break that trust."

"You never answered my question," she said, green eyes shining up at him.

"What was it?"

"Will you make snow Valar with me?"

He sighed. "If I must." He threw himself back down into the snow and she laughed, sitting up.

"How in the world are we to make them that close to each other?"

He eyed her, and his face turned sheepish. "I suppose I did not think about that."

She shook her head and moved a bit away from him, dropping herself back into the snow. "We will see whose looks more lovely."

"Do I even need to make one then, as mine is to be a troll?"

He heard her giggling as the snow shifted around them. "Yes, you do."

Finally, he pulled himself to his feet and then reached down to draw her neatly out of the snow. Both of them turned to look at their creations. "Well, yours is definitely prettier," he said, and she studied them for a moment.

"Indeed," she sighed. "Yours _does_ look a bit like a troll." She screamed as he pushed her over into the nearest snow bank. "Legolas!" she cried, and she tossed herself to her feet, lunging after him as he raced away, running from her atop the snow in his light boots. She was bound to catch him eventually; even if she had to resort to trickery in order to do it

* * *

Legolas stepped into the home he had been sharing with Gimli for nearly seven years. He had expected when the dwarf's kin had arrived that he would choose to move in with them, but he had not…Legolas was glad for this, as Gimli had become his best friend. He waited for the dwarf to return, though he had no idea where he was now or when he would be back. He knew Gimli had not been here yet, and it was before dinner. He sighed; he was _bursting_ to tell him of his declaration of love for Enguina! Never mind Gimli's nonsense bet of a week, it had barely been three days! He tossed himself down at the kitchen table and propped his feet up, staring at the door.

Eventually, Gimli, soaked to the bone as well as he was, entered. The moment the door closed, he sat up straighter. "Gimli!" he began, and the dwarf jumped a mile.

"Crazy elf! What the devil're you doing, scaring me like that!?" he hollered, taking his hand off his axe. "Good way to lose your neck!"

"Where in the world have you been? I have been waiting _forever_ for you."

"Forever?" Gimli scoffed, seating himself at the end of the table in the chair nearest the elf. "You're practically dry, and I know you were out riding today with the Lady, so don't try and tell me you've been waiting forever."

Legolas looked uncomfortable a moment. "It _felt_ as though it was forever. Forgive me, friend."

"All is forgiven, but don't scare me like that again." He eyed him closely. "Well? You clearly have something you need to share. You're about ready to blow up, like the Deeping Wall."

He grinned, blushing. "Forgive me!"

"No," the dwarf laughed, "just tell me, you fool!"

"I am completely in love with Enguina."

"I _know_ that, you—"

"And I confessed my love for her today down near the Anduin."

Gimli chortled and clapped his hands. "Wonderful news! And what was her response? What'd she say? Does she return your feelings? Does she admire and love you as much as you do her?"

"Slow down, Gimli! It is not as though I asked for her hand."

"What are you waiting for, the stars to correctly align? That'd be something you strange elves would watch for! But you declared yourself! Didn't she?"

"Well, yes," he said, "she told me she loved me."

Gimli grinned. "I knew it! I knew she couldn't stand strong in the face of your absolute princeliness. Besides, what woman could when you're pursuing her? Ha!" He laughed aloud. "Ah well, the bet is lost, but the result is good. I'm happy for you lad; very happy."

"Thank you, Gimli; that means so much to me."

"Did you kiss her?"

Legolas laughed. "Of course I kissed her!"

"Well, the next words out of your mouth should've been asking for her hand. I mean, you live forever, but why waste time?"

Legolas shook his head. "Gimli, do not be ridiculous! It is too soon; we have only known one another two weeks. It would be _mad_ to ask for her hand and think she would accept me. Just because she loves me does not mean she wishes to be my wife."

"Do you wish to be her husband?"

"Well, yes," he replied, "but I am certain of my feelings, and Guin—"

"She'd _get_ certain of them if you asked her."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "She needs time, Gimli," he said and narrowed his eyes at him. "Can I trust you not to say anything about wedding bells when you are around her, or am I going to have to separate you both until I decide to ask her?"

Gimli's eyes sparkled. "There's always dinner, lad."

"I swear, Gimli—"

"I'm just teasing you! Calm down, calm down," he laughed, pulling himself to his feet. "I'm going to get out of these soaking wet clothes and get dressed. Are you swinging by the guesthouse to walk over with her, or are you going to meet her there?"

"Meet her there. She wanted to bathe and change before dinner." He stood as well and placed his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Thank you, Gimli, for sharing in my joy."

* * *

With no doubt, it had been very clear to everyone at supper that Legolas and Enguina were courting and in love. Their looks to each other, the way they teased, made everything no secret. Legolas thought that was as it should be; what did they have to hide from their family, the ones they loved? In fact, there were so many more smiles and everyone had told them how pleased they were to see them together. Everything was as it should be.

Enguina breathed in the heavy scent of the salt sea air and then took a smell of the gentle lilies she held in her hand, Legolas's hand in her other. The two scents together could not have made her smile more. The tender bouquet given to her by Legolas was beautiful, but nothing compared to his eyes. The winter night was filled with starlight and they both enjoyed it as they sat upon the wall together. She thought once more about how truly wonderful he was. Everything about him touched her deeply, and her eyes lit with her love as she looked upon him. Yes, today had been a wonderful day, and she had been relaxed. She prayed that meant no dreams tonight. He looked out towards the Anduin as it flowed far past the borders of Gondor and out to the Bay of Belfalas. He, too, seemed to be breathing in the air of the sea, and a smile was upon his face as if he was remembering good memories. Softly, she heard his voice chanting:

 _The Sea, to the Sea, can you hear it calling?_

 _Do you hear the waves a-roaring?_

 _Do you hear the gulls a-crying?_

 _The Sea, to the Sea, all rivers to the Sea_

 _My heart is pulled toward the tide_

 _No matter if someone is at my side_

 _The Sea, to the Sea, feel it tug your heart?_

 _Come with me on a ship, great and grey_

 _Sail with me, into the failing day_

 _To Undying Shores, where peace and joy lay_

He turned his head toward her and found her staring at him. "Your voice is so beautiful," she said to him. "I could listen to you sing all night."

"I could write you a sonnet," he said softly, and she blushed.

"I think that might be a bit much for my heart," she laughed, but he could tell she was serious.

"Tomorrow, perhaps?"

She shook her head. "Still too soon," she said as he laughed, and then she continued. "What is it that you were thinking of when you sang about the Sea? You seemed so content."

He glanced at her and his smile widened. "I was thinking of the adventure I had with the Corsair fleet, when I sailed the Anduin with Aragorn, his kin, and Gimli. The dead, who owed their oath to Aragorn, fought for him at the Gondorian harbor of Pelargir, and then we took the ships of the Corsairs and sailed to Minas Tirith. The enemy at Pelennor thought we were their allies, but then Aragorn let loose the standard Arwen had fashioned for him and brought hope to our men and fear to our foes. It was one of the greatest moments of battle…it meant victory for Minas Tirith."

His eyes were filled with hope, as he looked back out to the Anduin. "There was so much destruction and pain in that War, Guin, but…there was so much hope to be found. Victory was never assured, but I believed, even in the darkest moments, that Middle-Earth could be spared. We fought so hard, all of us, and everything we fought for had been worth it."

She smiled softly. "You are so…oh, I cannot describe you, Legolas. You speak with such emotion that I could cry when I listen to your words. I look upon you and I see all that I have always wanted…and what I have been missing for so long." She laid a hand on his arm and he turned to her, his eyes gentle. "When I look back on my life, I cannot believe I never saw that something was missing. For so many years, Legolas, I have felt so alone. For so long I told myself that I needed nothing. Always, I saw Erumar and Haldir and their children, and I tried to convince myself for so long that I wanted no part of it." She looked at him. "Now, when I look at you, I realize that I should have never been so foolish."

Legolas' eyes softened. "I am sorry that you suffered alone for so long, but I am glad that you are here with me now." His voice was as soft as his eyes, and he squeezed her hand.

"I am, too," she said quietly. "Walk me home?"

"Of course," he said, "I am surprised you felt you had to ask."

She smiled. "As if you would let me out of your sight, you mean."

"Correct." She held his hand as he walked her back to the guesthouse. He sighed as they drew up onto the porch, and she turned to look at him. "Another day over," he said, looking down into her eyes. "Another day where I bid you goodnight."

She smiled. "Not quite yet, tonight," she said. "Will you come inside?" She opened the door and began to move inside, tugging his hand. "I wanted to talk with you about something." She saw the surprise in his face and smiled as he entered the house and closed the door behind him. "Sit with me?"

He took a seat at the table and she sat across from him. "What is it that I can do for you, _moina_ _quen_?" he asked, and he noticed that the endearment simply came out of his mouth before he thought about it. "Forgive me," he said, embarrassed, "I should have asked you if it was all right to—"

"It is all right," she said, blushing herself. "I like the way it sounds when you say it." _Dear One…she was his 'Dear One'…_

He smiled at her. "I did not mean to embarrass you. What is it that you wanted to say?"

"Since the night that we danced at the celebration to honor those who fought in the Great War," she said softly, "I have wanted to find a way to honor my brother. When I heard you talking on the wall about the War, I realized that there _is_ a way, and I know it would honor him very much. I thought that a part of me would grieve forever at the loss of my brother. Haldir and I were very close, and a part of me will always love him."

"That is always true of those we love," he agreed gently. "I would hope we never forget them."

"The words of Aragorn healed my heart that day, the grief I held for his loss. But Aragorn made me a present that day, do you remember it?"

"I…" Legolas looked at her and tilted his head. "Yes, his sword; the one he wielded at Helm's Deep. I remember."

"I shall never wield Eldarnar," she said, "but it should belong to someone who will." She reached behind her, lifting the sheathed sword and placing it on the table between them. "Gimli told me that you all became very close in Lothlórien and it only firmed my decision to give it to you. Will you wield it, to honor him? I wish you would accept it."

Legolas stared at her, and then stared at the Elvish sword. His whole life he never thought of carrying a sword; his father had given him the daggers, and he was used to carrying the light weapons. He was primarily a bowman. He reached forward and drew the sword from the sheath, listening to its song. It was, if nothing else, a beautiful sword. "Are you certain that you wish to give it to me? It shall only see more war if I carry it." He looked at her. "If there is more battle, I too shall go with Aragorn. I would never let him stand alone."

Enguina smiled. "Aragon is also my King, my family, as well as yours now. I would hope that I, too, would ride at his side. I know nothing about wielding a sword, but I would pledge my bow in his service."

"I believe that if a lady wishes to ride to honor the one she lives for or to fight in his service then she should be permitted to do so. Do not let me hinder you, Lady."

She flushed a little. "I should hope I would be riding at your side as well."

"I would welcome it." He sheathed the sword and looked into her eyes. "I will bear this sword proudly in memory of Haldir, Guin."

"Thank you, Legolas, for taking it; I do not wish it to collect dust as a memoir, and it is better used in the service of good, as Haldir once used it."

"I will treasure it."

"I should probably allow you to retire, Legolas, for it is already late, and you rise early."

"It is of no consequence, Guin. If I were to stay awake and speak with you all evening I do not believe I would feel the strain of tiredness," he said softly, holding her eyes with his own and her hand in his.

She smiled and laughed. "But you must not remain in my chambers or my home, Legolas!" she teased softly. "What would the guards think?"

His face reddened, and he nodded, thinking of how that must have sounded. "I would not have them believe wrongly of your pure character and innocent heart, and so I shall release you, but only for the evening; come morning, we shall be together again."

She looked at him, and then away as her eyes filled with tears at his words. As she raised a hand to keep the tears from rolling down her face, his hand met hers and wiped them away. "I am sorry," she muttered, embarrassed.

"Do not be," he whispered, holding her face in his hands. "Forgive me, I did not mean to upset you." Enguina shook her head.

"It is not your fault, but I…cannot speak of it. Not yet, Legolas. One day, perhaps, when I am ready. I hope you sleep well," she whispered, and he turned her chin gently toward him and brought his lips to hers. She laughed softly and smiled at him as her face was drying. "Every touch of your lips to mine gives me another pleasant dream."

"You deserve each and every one. And I love you," he said softly. "Until morning, sleep well."


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: The song in this chapter is a traditional Welsh lullaby called "Suo Ghan." I don't own it, nor did I write it! :O)

* * *

Monday evening, Belegore stood in the stable; things were _unnaturally_ quiet. But of course they were and he should have expected such a thing when he had just drugged nearly every horse in the entire stable. There was no stomping, no movement in any of the stalls as each one of them stood positively listless. It made him sick to his stomach, and it had been _his_ idea! He stared at the star in the middle of Brego's forehead. Oh, if the King only knew what he was doing right now…what he was about to do in several minutes…

"Gettin' cold feet?" Dagnirhir's voice came from behind him and he scowled, turning to him.

"Of course not, you wasted idiot. And you better not have been drinking tonight, or when we get on the road, I will have Ahadil beat you to a pulp."

He held up his hands. "Watch out there, boy. Those are fighting words."

"You better believe it," he snapped. "Are you ready? I have to go and bring her here."

"I'd be _more_ than happy to go and—"

"The guards have been shown your drawing, I told you. If you were to step out of this barn and one of them saw you, you would be tried for assaulting a young woman. Lay low here, Dagnirhir. I will return with her; she knows me, she is bound to come down without a fuss."

"I hope Calendur knows what he's doing with that diversion, or we're not going to get very far with her. And he's got the horses outside the gates, yes?"

Belegore nodded. "And everything else is set. All we need is the elf."

"Well, go get 'er. Don't waste any more time."

"Where is Ahadil?"

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be here when we least expect him."

Belegore frowned at him. "Stay hidden."

"Right you are, boy."

* * *

It was dark and late, and she should have been asleep already. Instead, Enguina sat at her table, thinking of Legolas and the day they had spent working on the wall. Gimli had been so hilariously funny today, telling her stories of the two of them and their travels and the wonderful companionship they had together. Dinner had been a wonderful affair as well, and as Legolas had walked her home, she had noticed that the guard across from her door had been the young Hildanir. She had been surprised that it would be someone so young, but Legolas assured her he was not stationed all night in that post. He had greeted them warmly and then gone back to his watch.

There was no doubt that she was becoming increasingly fond of spending every moment of every day at the side of Legolas. She had been unsure at first, but these last two weeks had brought her an understanding of his character that she could not do without. There was no way that she could _not_ see him. She was in love…and she could not stop thinking about it. In her heart, she knew that there were serious possibilities that this could be forever.

And in that moment, she thought about the fact that she had not spoken to Ilúvatar for the longest time; not since her song to him…pleading him to be with her, to guide her. He had. She sighed softly, wrapping her hands around the mug of tea she had made for herself and staring into it as though it held all the answers of the universe.

"Eru, Lord of All, I have not sought you in so long I barely remember what it was like to have you at my side. Arwen had tried to convince me for so long since my assault to remember to trust you, but I could not see the point; I could not see the purpose. I still do not," she admitted softly, "but I think, after all this time, that you have let me see a bit of it. If I was happy in Lothlórien, would I have come here to seek out Arwen? And if I had never come here, I surely would never have met Legolas. You _wanted_ me to come here…I know you did. You have a purpose for everything, even when it could be so many years before it is discovered. Perhaps it was a connection I needed to make on my own, but it has finally been made. I understand now.

"Your love has been constant, even though I have not seen it. I thought I had lost you, yet you were watching over me the whole time. Thank you for keeping me safe, and for leading me into Legolas's arms…for the blessing of Arwen in my life and the words and kindness of her husband. I have begun to make a life here…finally, I may have found a place where my heart belongs. You _are_ good, and your love endures forever. I was wrong to have doubted you; I have wasted so much time pushing you away. Forgive me, and keep me close to you once again, even if the storm still rages in my mind some nights…help my soul to be still."

A knock on the door nearly startled her out of her skin, so lost in prayer was she, and she rose from the kitchen table to go and see who in the world it might be at this hour of night. As she peered out the window, she was astounded to see one of the stable hands. What was his name?—Belegore. She opened the door.

"Good evening, my Lord," she said. "Can I help you?"

"Lady," he said, bowing his head to her, "I came as quickly as I could. Your horse is unwell."

"Lómë?" she asked, immediately worried. "What has happened to him?"

"I was leaving the barn for the night and I always check in on each of them before I head out. He was lying on his side in the stall. I thought you would wish to come and see to him. I would be happy to escort you; I know it is late." He stepped out of her way as she came onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind her.

"Oh, of course!" she said. "Thank you so much for thinking to tell me. Let us hurry to him."

"As you wish, my Lady."

* * *

Éowyn sat upon her little girl's bed, tucking her in for the night. She listened to the sounds of Faramir changing in the next room and of the splashing water as he washed up. She smiled at the sound, because she knew that meant Faramir would smell very nice when he came back into the room and wrapped his arms around her.

"Do you hear your daddy, little one?" she smiled as little Andúnêiel gave her a big smile. "He is _very_ dirty," she joked, "and so he is taking a bath. You are clean….clean, clean, clean!" she said, rubbing her nose against her daughters. The girl giggled.

"Mommy," she said, reaching her hands up to touch her face.

"I heard that," rumbled Faramir's voice from the other room. Éowyn laughed.

" _She_ thought it was amusing, and that is the important thing. Not a single person in this room cares what _you_ heard," she laughed.

"That is not the nicest thing I have ever heard pass your sweet lips."

"And it is certainly not the worst, my dear." Éowyn leaned forward and kissed Annî's forehead. "Are you going to sleep for Mommy?"

"Mommy…song."

"Close your eyes, little lamb," she whispered, stroking Annî's face as she began to softly sing.

 _Through the window by your cradle shines a moonbeam soft and clear._

 _Sleep, my baby, fear no danger; none can harm you, mothers near._

 _In the treetops winds are sighing, birds are flying to their nest._

 _Warm and cozy, no more crying; sleep, my baby, be at rest._

 _Through the window by your cradle shines a sunbeam warm and bright._

 _Wake, my baby, gently smiling; day is dawning with the light._

 _In the treetops birds are singing, lambs are frisking in the sun._

 _Gone is darkness, no more dreaming; wake, my baby, night is done._

Annî was fast asleep before Éowyn had even finished the song. She rose from the edge of her bed and blew out the candle, moving into the bedroom she shared with Faramir. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she laid her hands over her womb, thinking of their child to come, and thinking of Arwen's. She laughed softly as she thought of children. "I can barely control my excitement, Faramir. What is it now, three more months?"

There was silence from the bath at first, and then. "Éowyn…what in the world are you speaking of?" She rolled her eyes.

"The _child_ , silly! Is it not three more months until the child is to be born?"

"Indeed, so I believe. I am certain the parents-to-be are even more excited than you. And then of course, there is _our_ new babe that is coming, only a few months later." More splashing ensued. She smiled; he was probably getting out of the tub.

"How wonderful it shall be with _three_ children running about the gardens."

"You only want to be the first to see and hold it, Éowyn," Faramir called from the opposite room, "and that is all." She heard his laughter.

"That is not true, you arrogant man!" Then she questioned, "Do you think Aragorn will be as terrible as you were?" There was a moment of hesitation in Faramir's reply.

"What do you mean _terrible_?"

She laughed. "I mean do you believe he will be as anxious and frightened as _you_ were when Andúnêiel was born?"

"I was not _frightened_ …I was _worried_. There is a difference if you look it up, my dear. But no, I do believe that Aragorn shall be right there in the thick of things as he was with you; that _is_ providing they let him."

"As if anyone could stop him," she said. Then a sly smile came across her face as she stood and began to change into her night clothes. "So you admit you were anxious?"

"Éowyn…" he said in a warning tone. She laughed in reply.

"You can argue with me when you get in here," she called into the other room.

It was only a few minutes later as she had finished taking down her hair that a warm hand fell on her shoulder first and she smiled as Faramir's strong arms wrapped around her waist, his hands settling over her womb where the baby was slowly growing. There was not much of a bump, but there was a thickness that he could feel. She always felt so warm and safe when wrapped in his loving presence.

"I never knew you could sing so beautifully. I would have you sing all the time for me if I had known it," he said very softly and so closely to her head that his lips brushed her ear. She shivered, and he kissed her ear.

"It is but a rough echo in the common tongue of how it truly sounds when Arwen sang it in the high speech of the Eldar. I believe that our daughter loves the elves." Closing her eyes, she breathed in the scent of her husband and smiled. "You smell _so_ good."

"Perhaps our children will marry into their family. You never know it…it is possible."

She laughed. "Yes, love, it is possible, and I do pray for them to have many children."

"Mmmhmm," he agreed, kissing her neck.

"Faramir," she chided, with an amused grin, "do you not realize that I am trying to have a conversation with you? Dear, you are supposed to be listening."

"Sweet, sweet Éowyn…" he said, turning her in his arms, "after nearly five years of wedded bliss you believe that I would not know this?" His voice dropped to a fervent whisper, "Do you not realize that I am trying to silence you?" She grinned and he smiled, leaning down to kiss her once more.

* * *

Enguina followed Belegore into the stable, walking closely on his heels. She had never been in the stable this late, and therefore, did not find the silence a bit odd. She assumed that most of the horses were resting and so she would not see their heads over the stalls. As they walked down to Lómë's, Belegore allowed her to stride past him.

"Lómë?" she called softly, half-hoping to see his huge black head appear over the door and prove that he was fine. When there was no response, she moved to open the door, now even more worried than before. On her right, she suddenly noticed a shadowy figure leaning against the front of Brego's stall. She turned, an odd feeling swirling in the pit of her stomach; glancing behind her, she noticed Belegore was nowhere to be seen. "Belegore?" she called, even as she turned back to face the figure. Belegore was crouched down, hidden behind a haystack, as he watched in silence, not wishing to have any part in the actual kidnapping.

"Good evening, sir," Enguina said softly to the shadowy figure she had decided was a man. The figure did not reply, but he did turn toward her. Her sharp eyes caught a flash of moonlight glinting off something the man held—a dagger; this was _not_ a friendly meeting, and the feeling in her stomach grew a hundred-fold. It was very easy for her to recognize terror when she felt it; she had far too many experiences with it.

"Belegore!" she called urgently. She had no weapon to defend herself, but she was not about to go down without a fight. And something told her, when there was still no answer from Belegore, that there had been nothing wrong with her horse to begin with. Her eyes became as cold as steel and she began to back away from the man's advance. She immediately wondered why she had thought to fight when it would be much simpler to run; this was a big man, and she should easily be able to escape.

There was a thud behind her, as if something had fallen from the roof. She started to spin around, but she could not make it in time. Huge arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She twisted and turned violently, but her movements were no match for the man's brute strength. She could hear her own ragged breathing, and suddenly realized she _knew_ those arms, those hands, the smell of liquor on breath…

"No!" she cried out in both anger and terror. The man from the market! She flung as much of her weight as forward as she could, but it was no match for his brute strength. He simply hauled her off the floor, lifting her up where she could not get leverage. He hurried to clamp a hand over her mouth, but seeing a chance to inflict pain where it was due, she viciously bit him as the hand came towards her. He yelled out, falling back against the stall door where one of her hands left deep gouges in the wood. She _had_ to get free! Panicking, she kicked his legs with all the force she could muster. He gave another muffled cry, and Enguina thrashed, suddenly breaking free, darting forward…and forgetting about the other man in her terror.

Ahadil had arrived on time to do the job. He reached forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her roughly to his chest. It knocked the wind out of her for a moment, and in the next when she had gained it back, she felt his knife pressed into her throat. Her every nerve stood on the edge of that knife.

She struggled against the arm pressed across her chest as it held her tight. "Let…let me—"

"I don't think so, lass," he whispered over her stuttering, holding the knife even more sharply into her skin. "Silence now, and there'll be no more trouble. Just come quietly and you won't be hurt." She barely breathed for the knife cutting into her throat, and she could feel a touch of wetness on her neck.

"I can't believe that elf-maggot bit me! She _bit_ me, Ahadil!"

"Keep quiet, Dagnirhir! We'll teach her manners later; we don't have time for it now. We have to get her out of the City before—"

At that moment the door of the stable was flung open and a man in the service of the guard appeared. "Unhand the Lady Enguina!" he roared, and she suddenly recognized him—Hildanir. The young man held his sword at ready, clearly prepared to fight as he rushed down the long aisle toward them.

"You're nothin' but a child!" Dagnirhir laughed as he drew his sword and lunged forward to skewer what he believed to be 'just a boy.'

Their swords clashed, and Hildanir did his guard well, for he had the upper hand and fought with a fearsome strength; he was angry at these men for touching a woman the King had called them to protect. Dagnirhir was taken aback at the strength behind the young man, and he was fairly desperate for the battle to come to an end, drunk as he was.

"You!" Hildanir shouted, staring into Dagnirhir's face. "You are the one we were looking for!"

"Give it up, boy," he panted. "I'll kill you!"

"Let her _go_!" he shouted and lunged himself at the man again.

There was a loud _thunk_ , and Hildanir suddenly lost his sword and slumped sideways onto a hay bale. Belegore appeared from behind him, holding a shovel; he had clearly hit the young man in the head with it.

"Hildanir!" cried Enguina, but the knife sliced deeper and she gasped at the pain.

"I said quiet, lass!" snapped Ahadil menacingly. Dagnirhir stepped forward and angrily stabbed the blade down through Hildanir's shoulder.

"No!" screamed Enguina as she clawed at him. Ahadil slammed his hand down over her mouth hard, cutting her throat even harder. In pain, she had no choice but to stop struggling. Belegore shoved Dagnirhir back from Hildanir's motionless form and then snatched his tunic into his hands, slamming him up against the nearby support beam of the stable.

"What in all the hells of Morgoth is wrong with you?!" he snarled. "He was not going to hurt you, unconscious as he was!"

"I wanted to make sure he didn't."

Belegore was fuming, but there was little he could do now. They needed to go. "Ahadil, do you know if everything is in place?"

"Definitely set," he said. "We'd best be on our way though, as Calendur said just before the bells toll for midnight the diversion will hit with a bang." He shrugged. "Don't know what that means, but we'd better go."

"Let's hope the boy lasts the night and makes it to the morning," Dagnirhir laughed. "It's hard to find good messengers these days." Enguina growled something low in her throat, and Dagnirhir turned to leer at her, his eyes dark and angry. He nodded to Ahadil, who released her mouth. "What did you say?"

" _Saurhlokë!_ " she spat, and he smiled evilly at her use of the curse. The knife was lifted from her neck, and he reached out and struck her across the face, twice and hard.

"Dagnirhir, enough!" hollered Belegore, and Ahadil wrapped his arms back around her, holding her tight. The other man grabbed her face in his fist, holding her jaw so forcefully that pain shot up her cheeks and through her temples. A sudden flashback; and Enguina was trying desperately to wrench away, but there was nothing she could do, no way to escape.

In a few moments, and after a terrible struggle, they forced a burning liquid down her throat. She choked horribly, but she could do nothing to fight them, and she was forced to swallow or be unable to breathe. Within moments, Enguina felt the world slip away from her and she grew limp in the man's grasp.

"The blood's enough proof," Ahadil said, wrapping a dark cloak over her and then scooping her up into his arms. "Let's get out of here before there's so much chaos we don't know how to get out."

Dagnirhir leaned forward. "How about I carry—"

"How about you shut it!" snapped Ahadil. "You've done enough tonight." He nodded toward the boy. "He was a soldier of Gondor; our own people should not have been hurt. Keep your hands to yourself and shut your trap! Belegore, lead the way."

They drew up their cloaks and sneaked out into the dark night.

* * *

Aragorn stood at the window of the King's House looking out into the night. The day had been long, but productive, and as usual he had been more than happy to see Enguina and Legolas getting closer and closer. He was tired, and he knew Arwen was as she finished changing. The City lay quiet tonight, and everything seemed to be at rest. Soon they would be, too.

He turned about at that moment and wrapped his wife in his arms. At least he was not losing his edge on his hearing or sight. She laughed lightly and laid her head on his shoulder, and he leaned against the window frame, resting one hand on her head, and the other on her back.

"What are you looking out at, meleth?" Arwen asked in a hushed whisper, her voice barely audible over the beating of Aragorn's heart. She listened to it, beating strong and true.

"Just our City…" he replied equally low, and gently, he rocked her back and forth in his arms, humming some tune long forgotten. She smiled and listened to its rhythm, slipping her arms about his waist.

"You are so wonderful…" she whispered, and if he had wanted to move her, he would have lifted her chin from his chest to kiss her. However, he was content at the moment to just hold her, and so he only smiled, accepting the complement quietly. He continued to hum and gently rock her. She ran a hand up his back and gently curled her fingers into his hair, closing her eyes to simply enjoy the comfort, the feeling of his arms around her, the beat of his heart in her ear, and the vibration of his throat against her head.

They stood like that for quite some time. Neither counted the moments or thought about time passing, only the thought of each other lay on their minds. Arwen felt herself nearly drift off to sleep on her feet as her knees grew weak, and that was not a normal occurrence. As Aragorn's sweet, soft melody began to repeat itself for the fourth or fifth time, Arwen slowly lifted her head and kissed his chin and then his lips, her eyes cloudy.

She broke off and laughed very softly, as Aragorn's song continued. She looked at his closed eyes, though his forehead was now bent down and resting against hers. "Do you know how strange it feels to kiss someone who is humming?" she whispered.

He smiled but did not answer, his only reply was to continue the humming of the little forgotten folk song, and she laughed lightly once more. _How I love him…what would I do without this man?_ She tightened her fingers playfully in his hair again, and kissed him one more time, tightening her grip even more as she went. He broke off the kiss this time and opened his eyes, stopping his song. She raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for him to speak. He lowered his hands to her womb.

"Little one," he whispered, "your mother is tugging on Daddy's hair…and he does not like it." Had she been the type to be troubled at her husband's low and dangerous voice, she might have reacted with more than a smirk.

"I thought you enjoyed Annî tugging your hair, verno." She smiled a little wider and tightened her hand only slightly, and he reached back and gripped her wrist.

"Off, woman…" he said ominously.

"Afraid to lose your hair before your time, my Lord?" she whispered, her voice filled with laughter and his eyes grew dark.

"Númenorean blood does not allow for baldness—" and he cut off as she placed her ice-cold hands on either side of his neck. His breath left him, but there was no other recognition that he had felt the cold. She only smiled and held them there. He put his hands over hers, and then brought them to her face, running his fingers along her cheeks until he reached her ears. Gently, as always, he traced them, and instead of steeling her will and fighting it, she allowed him to feel her tremble. He tenderly kissed her.

"Aragorn…" she whispered, and he smiled. Her eyes were closed, and her face looked as if she had a continuous shiver. He knew better. She opened her eyes and found his full of devotion and adoration for her. "I love you," she said, and he kissed her again, this time ending it by enfolding her in his arms and lifting her off the floor. She laughed lightly. "Where are you taking me, beloved?" she said softly, sliding her arms about his neck.

"To rest your weary eyes, meleth…to our bed." He carried her to their bed as if she weighed as much as the dress she was wearing and very gently slipped her feet underneath the covers, laying her down. She smiled up at him as he gently pulled the covers over her, effectively tucking her in.

"I believe that you simply enjoy carrying me…and why are you tucking me in?" she said softly, a yawn nearly escaping her. He smiled and kissed her again.

"Practice…" was his only reply, and he rested his hands on her stomach as he kissed her once more. She watched him as he then blew out the candle. All became dark for a moment, but she felt him lift the sheet—

A _booming_ the like of which Aragorn had only heard once in his entire life shook the King's House. Flinging himself to the window, he stared out, gaping at the massive fire cloud that was emanating huge billows of smoke from the fourth level. "Ilúvatar!" he cried out and spun, stumbling to his boots and yanking them on. As he straightened, snatching up his belt and dagger, Arwen appeared dressed and ready beside him.

"No—"

"Yes," she stated, looking at him fiercely. "Go, now."

He touched her face; he had no time to argue with her. "Take your time."

She kissed him hard. "Be safe. _Go._ "

He was out the door and running along the cobblestones towards the fourth level as fast as his feet would fly.


	22. Chapter 22

The night that had begun tiring had suddenly become exhausting. Soldiers, men of the Citadel, elves, and dwarves, even woman and children, were covered with soot and stained with ash and stone dust. The tavern, _The Crowned Cockerel_ , had been completely obliterated, leaving the surrounding homes around it in flames and with numerous parts missing. Windows were blown out, stone smashed to bits, smoke pouring from numerous homes. The fire was finally out, and the men who had sacrificed their evening to put out the fire stood about coughing, trying to get away from the terrible accident.

Aragorn shook his head, dragging his hair back out of his sweaty, ash-stained face, grunting as he shoved his back up beneath an extremely heavy beam. They had been working to free a man across the street from the fire; when the explosion struck, he had been barricaded into his home, but his family had been able to escape before the beam had fallen. It had been midnight when the explosion had struck…and the sun had risen nearly half an hour ago. They had been at this all night long.

"Let me help with that, you madman," grumbled Gimli as he helped haul it upright and drag it away from the door. Legolas rushed in with several other Gondorians and moved some of the smaller stone, and the man was finally able to make it out of his front door.

"Thank you, thank you, my Lords!" he cried, beginning to look about for his family.

Aragorn leaned his hands on his knees, doubling over from the strain, trying to rest his back. "You'd best take it easy, lad," Gimli said, "or we'll be picking you up off the street."

He straightened, eyes aflame. "I will take it easy…when the men who did this are found."

"And hanged," snapped Faramir as he walked over himself. He had a cut across his forehead, but appeared otherwise in good health.

"Faramir, your head!" said Gimli. "You need to get that looked at!"

The man shrugged it off. "I am fine, just had a run-in with a falling board and lost the fight." He looked around grimly. "It is going to take _days_ to figure out what happened here."

"This was no accident," Legolas agreed, as filthy and sweaty as the rest of them. "But we have seen this power before."

"Saruman's device," Gimli sneered. "But how would anyone else figure out a way to create something like that? He was a wizard!"

As they began speculating and other Gondorian soldiers were passing them to find anyone else who was trapped, Aragorn lifted his head and followed the sound of a few coughs; he would know that voice anywhere. His sharp eyes squinting through the thickening smoke, he saw his wife kneeling beside the wall, a sobbing woman in her arms…a very still child on the ground before them. Just as ash-covered as he was, she was stroking the woman's hair, her head resting against Arwen's chest. There were streaks of tears in the soot and smoke on Arwen's face. Men passed them, but it appeared that not one of them took notice; there was too much to be done.

The man who they had just freed from the house came running past him, crying out. The woman, she must have been his wife, pulled from Arwen's arms and stumbled towards him until she met him over the body of who must have been their little boy, the two of them sobbing together. Coughing, Arwen staggered to her feet, unable to sit there any longer. She turned to check on a man that was leaning against the wall, a bloody gash in his shoulder. A Healer was with him, and Arwen, wiping her face with the back of a hand, spoke to him in low tones. Aragorn could hear in her voice her exhaustion. He had not seen her for hours, and seeing her now, hands coated with blood, clothes filthy, face streaked with smoke and tears, he knew her night should have been over hours ago.

"Aragorn?" He heard Legolas's voice and he turned his head towards it, rotating his angry shoulder. Looking on his men, they all hurt. It was time to let a new wave of soldiers move in and take over for them. There was only cleaning left to do now…and salvaging…and picking up the pieces of shattered families. The elf nodded towards Arwen. "She is wounded."

"What?" Aragorn's head spun back around, startled at Legolas's words. Looking for a wound now, he noticed easily that Arwen's right forearm was sliced open from elbow to wrist and the skin was dark; a bad burn. His shoulders tightened with tension he tried to release.

"You need to take her out of here before she inhales anymore smoke," Faramir said, pointing. "It is only going to get worse as they finish putting out the smaller fires, Aragorn." He cleared his own throat.

"We _all_ need a rest," Gimli said, lifting his leg and stretching it out on a stone stair. He had been pinned down by a board as well at some point; if Legolas and Aragorn had not been there, he may have burned to death, trapped.

"Look," Faramir said softly, "the other men will be here shortly. Legolas, Gimli, and I will stay here for another half-hour and make sure everyone is safe."

"There are people who need healing," Aragorn said, waving at the wall where the wounded were lying. "That is why Arwen stays…these are our people."

"Aragorn," Legolas said, reaching over and taking him by the shoulder, "she is wounded as are you. Sore, exhausted, even bleeding from your hands, if you haven't noticed, and _she_ is with child. Go, take her home."

"Get out of here, laddy," Gimli said, grunting. "Trust me; we're not far behind you."

He felt the guilt, but he knew they were right. He could force himself through another few hours, but there was no way that she could, even should. Turning, he nodded and began to make his way to her. She had moved further down the row where a young girl caught her dress. She stroked her hair, and the little girl scooted away back to her mother. Aragorn saw the young woman mouth 'thank you' and Arwen nodded. She turned away and stumbled, nearly dropping to her knees before one of the older soldiers caught her arm and prevented her from falling. Aragorn drew near.

"My Lady," he said, "you should not be here." He held her arm, and Aragorn stepped up to them, resting his hand beneath her right arm. She looked up at him, but his eyes were on the man.

"Thank you, Captain Mennev," Aragorn said to him.

"My Lord," he said, frowning and releasing Arwen's left arm, "this is no place for a woman...especially one with child."

Aragorn glanced over his shoulder. "Mennev, I know Prince Faramir could use you to take over for him. Would you—"

"Of course, my Lord," he replied, bowing, and he quickly made his way toward the place Aragorn had been standing. Aragorn held her arm and Arwen stood with him, silent for several moments. He found that she was leaning a bit more heavily on him now than she had initially.

"Arwen," he said, and she looked up. He must have looked like hell, because the look on her face was completely masked in a moment. "What happened to your arm?" She nodded towards the little girl and her mother.

"She was trapped," she whispered, "she was trapped and I had to get her out."

"You are with child," he reprimanded her in his soft voice, investigating the burn and the gash on her arm. "Could you not have called for aid?"

"I was right there," she said. "It had to be me." He looked down into her face, her sorrowful eyes filling with tears. " _Who would do this?_ " she whispered, her voice breaking, looking down at the bodies several soldiers were moving away from the wall.

"I do not know, nor for what reason." He could tell just by looking at her blistered hands that she had helped carry buckets of water; she had been in the thick of it, near the fire, just as they all had. His _pregnant_ wife… _carrying heavy buckets of water_. She coughed a few times. "You need to rest."

She shook her head rather violently. "These are my people just as well as they are yours," she said fiercely, looking up into his face. "I _need_ to care for them! How could I take rest when all of these people have nowhere to _sleep_ tonight? How can I rest when you are going to be here for hours with Legolas and Faramir and—" He gently took her shoulders in his hands and turned her fully toward him.

"These are _our_ people. The guards are going to take them to the conference rooms in Ecthelion, and Gimli's kin have offered their services already to rebuild. We are going to take care of them. Let me take care of _you_ ; you are exhausted."

She studied his face, her eyes red-rimmed and full of stubbornness. "So are you, yet—"

"Hush now; my time here is done. Mennev is going to direct the rest of the guard and work on the cleaning up. Those who have worked through the night are taking rest. Let me take you back to the House. We _both_ need rest." He watched as she physically gave into him before the rest of her did; he could feel it in the way the stubborn tightness in her shoulders released beneath his hands and the way she lowered her head.

"All these people…"

"We will see them in a few short hours," he said gently. "I hate to leave them, too…but I need to get you to the House."

"Aragorn—"

"Is she all right?" Legolas asked from over his shoulder, moving around to stand in front of them. Gimli appeared not far behind him; Aragorn could see Faramir giving directions to Mennev over the top of his head.

"I am well," she said, but watched Aragorn shake his head and Legolas nod. "Stop that," she said crossly. "I am capable of taking care of myself."

"You shouldn't have even been here," Gimli pointed out. "This is no place for a woman—"

"She would not have stayed at the House," Aragorn interrupted, looking down into her face, "and it _is_ her place to be here. But our part in this is over, and that wound needs tending."

Her throat caught and she suddenly began coughing hard, her eyes watering. "Smoke," Legolas said, frowning as Aragorn slipped an arm around her waist. "It is time for you to go."

"Get some rest, both of you," Aragorn said. "We will see you in a few short hours."

He had to stop at least ten times before they even left the street to talk to guards, reassure citizens. Arwen was right with him as he did so, speaking to the people in her quiet, encouraging way as he clasped hands and told them that everything was going to be all right.

* * *

It was only moments later that Legolas scanned the area around himself and Gimli, suddenly thinking about the dwarf's words. "Gimli…" he began, but his voice drifted off as he completely lost track of what he was saying as his eyes darted around.

"What, elf?" the dwarf grumbled. "This leg is sore and we should be getting home to rest, too. I think we'd best wait for Faramir before we—"

"Where is Guin?" Legolas blurted the words out, his mind thinking a league a minute.

Gimli looked at him, startled. "What? Was she here?"

"I…I did not see her, but…is it possible she slept through all of the chaos?"

"Lad, I never thought of her. She _must_ be at home, though; she would've found us, wouldn't she?" Gimli looked a bit worried; but if _his_ face showed worry, it was nothing compared to Legolas's.

"I am sorry, friend," he said, "but I must go to her. I must see for myself that she is all right."

"Go," he said. "I'll wait here for Faramir and meet you back at the house."

Legolas nodded, and despite his fatigue, turned and ran through the crowd, a deepening dread filling his heart.

* * *

The bells were tolling seven in the morning when Faramir opened the front door of his home and stumbled over the threshold, exhausted and filthy.

"Daddy! Daddy is home!" A bundle of fiery-red hair barreled across the room and hurtled into his arms. He scooped her up and hugged her. "Daddy is _dirty!_ " Éowyn did the same and he wrapped an arm around her as well, burying his face into her sweet-smelling hair.

"This is what I live for," he said softly, and she felt him melt into her, listening to her daughter chanting 'Daddy is home" over and over again.

"Ilúvatar, Faramir," she whispered in his ear, "you look like hell."

"I feel like it," he admitted, and she released him.

"Annî, let us make Daddy some tea, all right?"

"Tea!" Annî cried, and hurried towards their table. "Tea, Mommy," she said, reaching over and taking the kettle from the stand. Éowyn leaned into Faramir for another moment, and he rested his head against hers.

"Can I pour something a bit stronger in that tea?" he asked, and she touched his face, eyeing the cut on his forehead.

"You were down there so long; I thought for sure something had happened to you. Thank Ilúvatar you are safe. How…how many—"

"Too many," he replied sadly. "There was a tavern and numerous homes that were simply blown to bits, killing everyone inside. We will not know until families are searching how many were lost, but there were at least twenty bodies in the street and fifty injured, either from rescuing or from being in the wrong place at the wrong time." He shook his head. "Captain Mennev is leading the next few hours before we return."

"That is... _awful_ ," Éowyn whispered.

"It could have been much worse for the amount of damage—"

"Mommy, tea!" cried Annî, holding up the kettle.

Éowyn touched his face. "Let me make this; we will talk then."

"No trouble."

Faramir collapsed into a chair as she took the kettle from her daughter and Annî climbed up into his lap, hugging him and resting her head on his chest. He sighed, laying his head on hers. "Love you, Princess."

Yes, a few hours of their love would set him right again.

* * *

After being held up what seemed a hundred times on his way back to the Citadel, Legolas finally jogged up to the guesthouses. His sharp eyes quickly noted that there was no guard on the corner; he knew he was not mistaken in knowing that there should be, and yet there had been so much chaos, what guard would have held such a position? Still, the absence of the guard made him sick to his stomach.

Bounding up the steps, Legolas knocked hard on her door.

 _Ilúvatar,_ he prayed for the hundredth time since he discovered he did not know why she had not been there, _please, I know I have sought you for so much these past few weeks, but this is different. Please, please let her come bounding to the door and open it. Please…please…_

She did not come, of course. He had known; he had known it all along that something had been terribly wrong and his heart plummeted to his toes. He banged on the door this time, urgent, worried, even frightened. "Guin!" he called. "It is Legolas! Please, open the door!"

She was not coming; she was not going to open the door. He threw himself to the window and looked inside, but between the curtains and the sunlight he could see very little. _Oh hell…_ He kicked the door as hard as he could and it popped inward with no trouble—it had never been locked to begin with. He might have been embarrassed if he had not been in such a state.

His eyes missed nothing: a mug of tepid tea on the table, burnt-out embers in the fireplace, a bed not slept-in with the covers not even turned down. _Eru in Heaven, where is she?_ Had she gone for a ride? Was that even possible in all the chaos? Would she have risen early and made her bed so perfectly at such an hour? He leaned over and opened the door to the bath, hoping to terribly startle her; even having her shriek and scold him would have been better than the terror he was feeling.

Standing still in her kitchen once again, he decided checking the gardens and the stable would be a _very_ good idea before he went into an all-out rampaging panic. She _could_ conceivably be _anywhere_ in the City…but there was no way, after the safety measures Aragorn had taken with her, even threatening to stand outside her door himself, that she should be anywhere but this house.

He would find her. He had to.

* * *

Exhausted, but with more stubbornness than he had ever seen her, Arwen had forbidden him to carry her since they left the fourth level. This had lasted until the sixth level when she simply could not walk anymore. She was angry with him for scooping her off her feet; she knew he was just as tired as she was, yet he could drive himself onward…for her he would do anything. So, he ignored her irritation; for nearly seven in the morning, there was not a guard on the streets, not a soul of a person to see them, which suited him just fine as he was walking as though in a fog. He had not even the slightest desire to speak to one more person…not even one. Her irritation at least had been short-lived. By the time they had reached the House, she was nearly sound asleep in his arms. Now, she was lying against his chest, propped up against him as he was propped up against the side of the tub he had filled. They were both completely filthy and covered with cuts and bruises, so the hot water was perfect and began to burn away their aches. Her wet head lay cradled against his throat; one of his hands lay on her womb, the other combing gently through her hair.

He thought of the night, resting his cheek on hers, and thanking Ilúvatar over and over that they were both safe, that their baby was fine…that they had the strength to care for the people who looked to them for guidance and strength. There had been so many people caring for each other tonight; it had been one of the greatest examples of courage he had seen in his people. He was proud of them.

"I keep thinking of that little boy," Arwen whispered into his neck.

He reached down and slipped her right arm into the water, washing the burn and cut gently for the fourth time. "Think of the little girl instead," he replied. "You saved her life."

"He was out of danger," she said. "He had been safe with his mother. She was so…she was so panicked about her husband she lost sight of him. She lost sight of him…and a beam fell…and he…he was gone." Her voice was quiet, exhausted by the weight of the dead she carried with her. "In a second…he was gone. Life is so… _short_ …and hard." He kissed the top of her head and she rested her hand on his scarred knee. "And even after a night like this, I can lie here with you," she whispered, "and still thank Ilúvatar that we are together, and for what we have. But…I feel as though I failed them tonight, Aragorn."

"How many hands did you touch?" he asked softly, intertwining his fingers with hers. "How many wounds did you press your hands against to stop the bleeding? You reached into a burning building to pull out a child and put yourself in great danger tonight. How many people did you bless just by being with them? We did not fail them; we were there for them in ways that no one else could be." He looked over her head to the great carving of the White Tree on the wall. "And Mennev was wrong. You _should_ have been there tonight…I only wish you had been more careful."

"Of course you do," she replied, kissing the scratch underneath his chin. "And I wish that you were not shoving yourself beneath flaming boards and heaving heavy stone over your shoulders and...well, I cannot always have you safe _and_ have you be who you are."

"You were so…stubborn tonight," he said softly, and though she looked up into his face he did not meet her eyes. "I thought I was going to have to put you over my shoulder and pull you screaming out of there. You were angry."

"I _was_ angry," she admitted. "I was angry because I needed to stay, and I was angry that at any other time before I would have been able to do so…and I was angry that you were right, that I hurt and I was exhausted. And then, as soon as you mentioned it," she continued, "that I had put the baby in jeopardy because I was so focused on what I was doing…"

"Legolas had to point it out to me," he said with a sigh. "I knew you were as exhausted as I was, but he told me you were injured, and then the smoke…" He shook his head. "You should have been there, Arwen, but not as long as you were. You have to be careful."

"I was not," she said softly. "I thought of the people, and I thought of you, but I did not think of myself and by extension of my body, the baby. I should have known better. I will be better next time."

"Do not be so stubborn."

"You need to let me come to you," she said gently. "You need to stop protecting me and—"

He looked at her then, seriously. "I did not see you coming over to me, Arwen. You would have stayed until there was not one soul left there, exhaustion or no. You are, in so many ways, as stubborn as I am…and as selfless. I love you for it—"

"And you hate it."

"No, I was going to say that there is a time for it, and a time to let others take over when we have given all we can."

She looked at him just as seriously, raising an eyebrow. "And you know when that is? You can honestly tell me that you know when that time is?"

He hesitated. "I should, by now."

"Neither one of us do," she said, sighing. "You are always in the thick of it, and I am there through knowing you."

He looked guilty. "Forgive me for that, but I do not think you would wish it any other way."

She released his hand and reached up to touch his face. "You know me far too well." She kissed him gently.

"No one, seeing you out there last night, could have ever said you were not the Queen that Gondor has desired for its whole existence. There is not one person who could ever say a word against you. The way that you cared for the people," he said gently, squeezing her hand, "there is nothing they could say. Every stone would have fallen from their hands."

She rested her head back against his shoulder and looked up into his face. "Your words soothe my heart." She felt him stroke her belly and she smiled. "And what of you?"

He kissed her cheek. "We make a very good match."

She laughed softly. "Oh…that is an understatement if ever I heard one. I think, though I have loved every moment of this bath, the baby is going to become a prune if I am here any longer."

He chuckled. "Well, if you really want to get out, you will have to sit up first… and then I will get us some towels." She sighed, rubbing her face into his neck. Moments passed. "Well?" he teased her, and he heard her groan.

" _Must_ I?"

"You must, and it would be very good for us to put a wrap and some ointment on that burn."

"It is not that bad; it barely hurts. It will be gone in a few days."

"I will heal it after we get some rest," he said. "Though, you still need to—"

Sighing, she sat forward, and he, chuckling, slipped out of the tub.

* * *

The garden had been a complete waste of his time that could have been better spent running towards the stable. Legolas had never been so frustrated about anything in his whole life. He usually made good decisions and kept a level head, but there was no way he could be level-headed about this. The stable was dark when he arrived, and he threw open the barn doors and made his way inside. That man, Belegore, should have been there by now; he had never been late any other morning.

The barn was far too quiet; there was no whinnied greeting, no nickering for food…not a sound of even shifting feet or shuffling hay… _nothing_. He strode down the barn aisle, now even more worried than before.

"Enguina?" he called. She was first in his mind, but then he called out to the horses. "Brethil? Brego?" There was no response from anyone, and as he got further through the barn, his eyes moved to the floor where he saw a prone figure lying in the center of the aisle. Breaking into a run, he was at the man's side in a moment.

He recognized him almost immediately; he knew who Hildanir was, and realized immediately why there had been no guard across from the guesthouse. The young man was wounded; not terribly, but the wound would not be easily healed. Legolas tried to rouse him, shaking him gently, and then he realized the young man also had dried blood caked along the back of his head.

"Hildanir! Hildanir, what happened?" There was no response, and Legolas took a moment to scan around as quickly as he could. There were deep gouges on the wooden door of Brethil's stall, _no_ horse was poking their head out, and there was…there was _blood_ on the floor nowhere near Hildanir. He stood and moved towards the few drops that stained the stone. Terror and grief flooded his heart. Was it possible…was it possible that she had been here? And what was _Hildanir_ doing at the barn? Had he followed Enguina because she had been in trouble? Eru forbid it…was this blood _hers_?

Quickly, he stepped forward and opened Lómë's stall. "Lómë?" he queried, but the horse did not move towards him. In fact, the horse did not move at all. He walked up to him and touched the black's neck; there was no reaction at all. The horse just continued to stand, eyes closed, breathing as if sleeping. "What is…" He hurried out of the stall, leaving the door wide open, and moved over one by one to check on Brethil…Brego…Firgenwine…Asfaloth…every horse in the barn was like a statue! Terror struck him again, fresh fear flowing through him. He had to get Hildanir to the Healers and he needed to find Enguina _right now_. He knew, in his heart, that something terrible must have happened.

* * *

Aragorn had _just_ laid his weary head on the pillow, Arwen already asleep beneath his arm, when a thundering blow struck the front door of the King's House. Arwen staggered upright and out of the bed as Aragorn launched himself to his feet and stumbled out of their bedroom.

" _Aragorn!_ " he heard Legolas's voice cry, and the man barely had time to cross the threshold into the kitchen, Arwen right behind him, when the door was flung open and Legolas fell inside.

Aragorn's first impression of Legolas was of a Wildman—his eyes were full of terror and flame and were completely unfocused, his face stricken and still covered with ash and soot, his hair was everywhere—and he grabbed the elf's shoulders to stop him. Legolas gripped his arms so hard that Aragorn knew he would have bruises in a few minutes.

"Legolas," Arwen said in her soft voice, "whatever is the ma—"

The jumble of words that came out of Legolas's mouth was completely incomprehensible. Aragorn shook his head. "Slow down, Legolas, slow down. What happened?"

"The horses…gouges in the wood…Hildanir…" Legolas stuttered, out of breath for the first time in his life, "and…and…oh _god_ , there was blood, blood on the ground and I think it was hers! It _is_ hers _!_ "

"What?" asked Aragorn, and he reached over, dragging out a chair. "Legolas, _sit_."

"I cannot!" he cried suddenly, as if coming back to himself. His eyes became more focused and he stared into Aragorn's. "You _must_ come down to the stable with me. _At once_!"

" _What_ blood is hers?" Arwen asked suddenly, stepping forward, her eyes terrified. " _Enguina's_?"

"It has to be," he moaned, and he reached up to hold his head. "I cannot _find_ her."

Suddenly, both Aragorn and Arwen were of one thought. They both knew they had not seen Enguina since last evening, yet they had not thought of her in all the chaos. Aragorn forced Legolas into the chair and Arwen rested her hip against the table, watching him closely.

"Stay there for a moment before you fall down," Aragorn said to him. "Tell us what happened."

"I realized Enguina was missing the moment after you walked away," he said. "I went to the guesthouse and searched for her; her bed was not even slept in. I searched the gardens and she was not there, and then I tried the barn where I found the horses in strange condition—they seem frozen!—and Hildanir was lying upon the stone. No one had been there this morning; Belegore is nowhere to be found," Legolas said, his words coming faster and faster, "and there was blood on the floor. Why would Hildanir be in the barn in the first place? Why would he be injured? It makes no sense! And Belegore has not ever been late as long as he has been there. You chose him for a stableman; you know—"

"I do, and he has never been late," Aragorn agreed, now very worried.

"Ilúvatar," whispered Arwen, "you do not think Enguina—"

"Legolas, is Hildanir all right?"

"He is at the Houses," the elf replied, trying to collect and keep himself together. "He was stabbed with a blade through the shoulder and he was hit in the head, unconscious when I found him. The Healers told me they thought he would be fine."

"I will go to see him," Aragorn stated, "my assumption is that he will know more about what happened in the stable than anyone else."

"You need to come down to the barn and see the horses," he fretted. "They are in such a state as I have never seen."

"Listen," Arwen said, trying to remain calm, "I will go to the Houses and speak with Hildanir. Aragorn, go to the barn with Legolas—"

"You read signs better than anyone," Legolas stated, staring into the man's face. "You can see if she was…if she was taken somewhere…" Aragorn nodded, of course he would go, but he did not want Arwen doing anymore today; she was tired enough.

"You need to rest," Aragorn said to Arwen, half-turning to her.

"We _all_ need to rest," she confirmed, looking stubbornly at him, "but none of us are likely to do that if Enguina is missing. Do not hinder me, Aragorn. You cannot be in two places at once, and Enguina is my closest friend. We will not have this argument again. I am not likely to lie here while she is—"

He held up his hands. "To the Houses you go," he relented. "Legolas and I will meet you there after we stop at the stable and see what we can see."

Altogether, they hurried out of the House where almost immediately before taking their first steps from the porch, they met Gimli. "Where in hell-fire ya been, lad? I've been worried! I've been waiting for you—"

"Come with us, Gimli," Aragorn said with a sweep of his hand. "Legolas will impart the tale as we are on our way."

* * *

Legolas and Gimli stood in the center of the barn aisle as Aragorn looked at the floor, the hay, the scratches in the door, the blood…his eyes were like Legolas's, they saw everything. He reached out and opened Lómë's door, walking inside to the horse, who remained fairly still.

"Lómë," he said softly, stroking the horse's head.

"I have never seen anything like it," Legolas said softly.

"It's every single one of 'em!" said Gimli.

Aragorn pulled open the black's eye and sighed as Lómë blinked sluggishly. "They have been drugged," he said, turning from the horse and closing the door again. "He is just beginning to wake."

"Drugged?" exclaimed Gimli. "What? Why would someone drug a horse?"

" _All_ of the horses," said Legolas, crossing his arms. "Why would someone do that? Who would know how?"

"Someone experienced enough to know the correct dosage. My guess, though it makes my heart heavy, would be Belegore. He is knowledgeable enough to be able to do such a thing."

" _Why_?" asked Gimli again.

"So they would be unaware of what was going on in the stable at the time." Aragorn pointed around. "Enguina would not come here at night alone, yet she was certainly here, and wrestled with by two large men." He held up his hands as he watched Legolas's eyes bulge and his face go red, "There is no sign of any violation aside from a physical assault. They were not here to force themselves on her; Hildanir must have followed her or arrived and fought with one of them. There were four men here at once, and Enguina. The gouges on the door are hers, I am sure of it."

"How do you know for sure?" asked Gimli, and Aragorn lifted his chin.

"You can tell me, but I am fairly sure they are exact."

" _Guin_ did that? To _you_?" asked Legolas, shocked.

"It was an accident, and mostly my fault," Aragorn said, pointing back to the marks on the stall, "but these are definitely hers. The blood…" he shook his head, "I will make a guess it is hers or the man who held her. Let me show you." He sucked the edge of his finger and crouched down near the blood, touching another spot on the ground. "This is _not_ blood," he said, holding the now wet liquid to his nose.

"What is it?" asked Legolas, distracted by the find.

"Sleeping serum," he said, looking up at them both. "They must have forced her to drink it; that is why there is some on the ground. Then, they carried her out."

"Out of the City?" Gimli cried, and Aragorn shook his head.

"I do not know. My hope is that is not the truth, but…" he hesitated, and both the elf and the dwarf stared at him.

"What is it?" Legolas asked. "Say what you are thinking, Aragorn! It is _killing_ me!"

"I was only thinking that I cannot imagine what Belegore would have to do with this. He had seen you and Enguina here so many times. Why last night? Why—"

Legolas gaped at him. "A diversion."

"What?"

"What?" asked Gimli. "What are you talkin' about, lad?"

"The explosion was a diversion," Legolas said confidently. "It was to draw us away so we would be so busy helping Minas Tirith that we would not see what was happening. They took Enguina right under our noses!"

"Legolas, let's not get carried away," mumbled Gimli. "Why'd they take the lass? And who?"

"I do not know!" Legolas cried, flinging up his hands in frustration. "I _know_ it does not make sense, but they _must_ have. They set the explosion, they drew her down here, and then cornered her and took her away." He looked at Aragorn who appeared thoughtful.

"Such a theory appears to make sense, though why anyone would take Enguina, I cannot fathom. My guess is, unless they were fools, they have taken her from the City."

"It must be a trap of some sort," Gimli stated. "It _must_ be."

"Trap or not," Legolas said suddenly, "I can do nothing else but go after her. We must discover where they have taken her or where they have traveled. I will ride to the Outer Gate and—"

"Wait," Aragorn said, "one thing at a time. First, we must speak with Hildanir; perhaps he knows something." They began to hear some snuffling noises and foot shifting and suddenly, Firgenwine's head plunged over the stall door. Aragorn pointed at her, looking at Legolas. "The pony received the lowest dosage. _Gimli_ will ride to the Rammas Echor and find out if the guards let anyone through last evening."

"But—"

"Our horses are still asleep, Gimli will go," Aragorn said firmly, as the dwarf hurried forward to greet his mount. "I must speak with Faramir, and with the Council. _You_ will go to Arwen at the Houses, see her back to the King's House, then go home and dress. We are not going to be able to do anything more at the moment."

"What does it matter what I look like!" Legolas exclaimed. "I have to—"

"Listen to me," Aragorn said, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him close to him, "we can do nothing for Enguina until our horses wake and are fed and ready. There was an explosion, in _my City_ , Legolas, and I must care for my people."

"They have half-a-day's start on us already!" Legolas cried. "We must go, _now!_ Will you join me?"

"I will ride with Legolas!" stated Gimli as he walked a saddled Firgenwine out into the aisle.

"I must speak with Faramir," Aragorn said as he moved towards the door. Legolas reached for Aragorn's shoulder and clasped it, staring hard at the man.

"I have followed you ever, Aragorn, without question even when I did not wish it _and_ against my better judgment—you have always been true. Now when I ask for you to ride with me, you would refuse? When I ask for your skill in the hunt to track these _animals_ that have taken the one I love from me, you would refuse me?" Legolas looked at him and his eyes mirrored his injured heart.

"Ilúvatar in heaven, Legolas," muttered Aragorn, "there is no question that I shall ride with you. There never was, nor shall there ever be, friend. The Three Hunters shall indeed journey forth again, and Andúril shall shine in the sun once more! I will ride with you, but we must _prepare_. Faramir needs to oversee the healing of Minas Tirith while I am away, and the Council needs to be made known of the plans already set into motion. I must care for _all_ of my people, Legolas."

He looked very sheepish. "Forgive me…it seems my worry is controlling me, as you said. So…I should see to Arwen," he said softly.

" _Please_ , I beg you," Aragorn said, "a duty I would entrust to no one else. Get her home, and then get yourself cleaned and level-headed. You cannot run off after Enguina without some preparation. Make ready for journey, and please, give Arwen something to do." He shook his head. "She is going to go mad with worry like you."

"That will occupy my mind for a little while," he admitted.

"Precisely," Aragorn said.

"Yes!" Gimli hooted. "The Three Hunters will hew the necks of those who kidnap those we bind in troth!"

"Gimli," groaned Legolas, hitting himself in the forehead.

"What is this I have not heard?" Aragorn asked, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms. "Speak, Legolas."

"I did _not_ ask her!" he cried. "Gimli mentioned it the other evening, and told me I should not wait, but I had no intention of asking her."

"HA!" the dwarf said, giving the elf a shove. "You should have!"

Aragorn shook his head. "Gimli, please, not now."

" _Fine_ ," he grumbled, "but I still think you can't waste time on matters of the heart. I'll be back as quick as I can, and I'm sure with news."

"We will meet at the King's House and leave from there," Aragorn added. "A few short hours, and we will find their trail; in the snow it should not be difficult. Gimli, on your way—"

"I will scout. There won't be many tracks from the City to the Outer Wall. Four horses should be easy to locate if they left the City."

"Good hunting."

"Thank you, Gimli," Legolas said and the three of them scattered when they reached the doors of the barn, each off on his own mission.

* * *

Seated on the side of his bed, Arwen rested her hand on Hildanir's brow. The Healers said that they had thought he would not wake anytime soon, and she felt badly for him. What _had_ the young man seen? Had he seen Enguina? She did not know Hildanir well, but she had seen him many times since he had become a guard, like his father had. Seven years ago during the War, he had tried to join the guard, but his mother had forbid him. Now, old enough to make up his own mind and with his mother gone, he had become a soldier.

It brought her much elation, therefore, when the moment she touched his forehead, his eyes opened and met hers. He looked at her with surprise; hers was the last face he had expected to see when he woke. She smiled at him.

"Am I…am I dreaming?"

She laughed softly, but did not blush. Often, she had noticed him watching her; it was clear he admired her. He was young and innocent and she _was_ a beautiful woman. It would have seemed strange if he had _not_ noticed her, not if he had. "You are not dreaming, guardsman. You are in the Houses of Healing. Prince Legolas found you this morning in the stable; you were—"

"The Lady Enguina!" he suddenly cried out. "Was she there?"

Arwen shook her head, her eyes worried as her worst fears were confirmed. "I came to ask you what happened to you. The Prince seemed to think that the Lady had been assaulted. Can you tell me what happened?"

"My watch was almost over," he said, his eyes sad, "and that new stable hand came to her door. I probably should not have eavesdropped, but I was glad I did. He told her there was something the matter with her horse and she went with him to the stable. It took me a few minutes," he said sheepishly, "but I thought that was a bit suspicious. Why had he been at the barn so late? So I hurried down to the stable after them.

"When I arrived, I heard voices inside, but they did not sound like hers or the hand's and then I heard a man say they were going to take her out of the City and I could not let them do that!" He looked up into her face, his eyes clearly upset. "The King asked us to protect her!"

"He did," she said, her voice soothing, "you were right, Hildanir."

"I burst in and found a man holding her with a knife to her neck. They would not release her, so I fought one of them; he was the same man the guard had been searching for, the one the King wanted found. I had almost beaten him but then…everything went dark." He looked guilty. "I woke up here."

"You were very brave," she said. "You did everything you could." Her heart ached for Enguina; that evil creep, the one who had hit her face, had touched her in the market, had her in his clutches. But why? And why take her from the City?

Hildanir could see that her eyes were full of tears. "She is your close friend. I am so sorry, my Lady. I tried—"

"You did well, Hildanir," she said, shaking her head. "The King is out searching for her right now; we know that she is no longer in the City. Is there anything else you can tell me about the men? Did you see the one holding Enguina?"

He nodded. "Yes, and I recognized him. It was not the hand—"

"Belegore."

"That is his name," he agreed, "yes, it was not him. The man used to be a guard with my Father; his name was Ahadil. He probably would not remember me, but I recognized his face. I am certain it was him. I did not see Belegore anywhere, although he might have been the one that hit me on the head." He looked embarrassed.

"You need to rest," she said softly, "and I must go. The Lady Enguina…was she injured?"

Hildanir looked at her very seriously. "I know that man, Ahadil, had his knife to her throat, but I do not think he was going to kill her. I think he was trying to keep her quiet. She was bleeding, but I…I do not know if it was bad, my Lady. I am so sorry I cannot give you more." He sighed. "I know nothing else."

"You did well, guardsman, and you were very brave," she repeated, stroking his forehead. "Thank you for your courage and service. Take some rest." He stared at her. She murmured something in a language he did not understand, but he felt sleep take him.

She stood from the bed and slipped from his room. As soon as she closed the door and turned, Legolas was standing before her. "Legolas!" she said, and she hugged him suddenly, tears flooding her eyes again. "She was taken from the City; Enguina was taken!"

"Hildanir told you that, for certain?" he asked, holding her close as well, resting his head on her shoulder. She held onto him as much for _him_ as she did for herself. "Whoever was behind this must have planned the explosion as a diversion to get her out of the City," he said. "Gimli has ridden out to Rammas Echor to discover if they did, indeed, escape on horseback. Belegore is nowhere to be found."

"Hildanir seemed to think he was involved as well," Arwen said releasing him, "and there were two other men in the stable who held her when he entered." She could not tell him; she simply could not. He would ride out after them this instant, half-blind, half-mad, and no matter how terrified she was for Enguina, that would be disastrous. "Come," she said, catching his hand in hers, "let us find Aragorn—"

"I am under strict orders," he said honestly, as they exited the Houses, "to get you back to the King's House and to try and calm myself down."

"Back to the King's House?" she asked, confused, and then her eyes narrowed. "You listen to _me_ , Legolas son of Thranduil—"

"No," he said firmly, tugging her to a halt on the outer steps, " _you_ listen. You are with child; you have been up all night doing strenuous work that is completely ridiculous for a woman in your condition—"

" _Honestly!_ " she began hotly.

"—and you are every bit as worried about Enguina as I am. You are going to hurt yourself, Arwen, or the baby if you do not take a moment. Aragorn is worried sick about you, and frankly, so am I." He stared at her pointedly. "You need to sit down and rest, and I need to stop worrying so I can _think_. So do you." She stared at him, her blood boiling, but she knew he was right. Her hand fell to her stomach, and he nodded. "That is right," he said, his voice much softer, " _think,_ Arwen."

"But how can I _sit_ there when she is…when she might be—"

"The same way," he said, taking her arm and leading her away from the Houses of Healing, "that I will be—by force. I am leaving you at the King's House, where you might be able to preoccupy yourself by packing up some of Aragorn's things for traveling, and then I am going to get clean and get myself and Gimli ready for travel." His icy eyes glittered with untold anger. "The Three Hunters are going to be doing some _serious_ hunting."


	23. Chapter 23

Grogginess filled Enguina's head and her body was moving without her consent. She could tell she was on horseback as she was beginning to feel the saddle beneath her. Her back was up against someone, their arms around her, holding her upright in the saddle. Her neck was bent in an odd position, but she did not wish to be awake yet. Her throat ached. Her nose was filled with the scent of horse and the stink of sweat. And then she suddenly remembered; the memories came flooding back about what had happened, how she got here, and whose arms were probably around her. She did not waste another moment. Throwing her hands backward, she shoved off of the person, rolling out of the saddle and onto the ground. She heard a huge thump behind her and an 'oof' and the thudding of hoof beats. She had frightened the horse and knocked the man from behind the saddle. _Good_.

It was a much further drop than she had anticipated, and pain fired through her shoulder, but she rolled easily enough to her hands and feet and bolted into the woods. She could feel herself stumbling, her head was swimming; she almost did not dodge the tree in front of her. Panting, she kept going, driving herself deeper into the woods. Once she escaped, she could figure out where she was and how she was going to get home. The voices were behind her.

"Hey! She's getting away!"

"Go get her then!" Hoof beats behind her spurred to a gallop, and she ran faster, gasping, tree limbs tearing at her leggings and shirt. The snow was not deep here; they would surely catch her.

And catch her they did. She glanced behind her just as a hand caught the back of her hair. Squealing in pain, she was dragged to a stop when the rider pulled the horse back. He laughed, and even through the throbbing in her head, she recognized it. She looked up into the man's face.

"Hello, you little _bitch_ ," Dagnirhir muttered, leering at her. She did not recognize the face, but she could clearly tell she had been the one that scratched him. Screaming in anger, she lashed out at him and the horse, who tried to dance away from her. She tried to plant herself and pull back from him, but the pain in her head made her move forward with him where his boot slipped from the stirrup.

He released her just as his foot connected with the side of her face and she fell to the ground. She tried to roll onto her hands and knees, but balancing was nearly impossible. Dagnirhir shoved his horse sideways into her, knocking her back onto the ground where she covered her head with her arms, thinking he was about to trample her. It was then Ahadil arrived on foot.

"You horse's ass!" he shouted. "You could've killed her!" He grabbed the hands that were covering her face and quickly began binding them. "We're in the middle of the woods; where's she gonna—"

Enguina brought her leg up between them and kicked him hard against his chest, knocking him back from her. She tried to roll again to her knees, but Dagnirhir spurred the flanks of his horse into her again, knocking her onto her back where Ahadil snatched her hands in front of her and tied them tight.

"Look at her go!" Dagnirhir laughed. "She's a firebrand, I tell you. Give me twenty minutes with her and I'll break her right."

"Shut up, you idiot," he snapped, dragging her to her feet, but she could not hold herself up. He pulled her a step before she fell to her knees, her head bobbing. She rested her head on her hands, trying not to heave, her vision spinning so wildly.

"What are you two _doing_?" Calendur asked and Ahadil looked up, gesturing angrily at Dagnirhir as he held Enguina's arm. Both of them were covered in snow.

"Dagnirhir kicked 'er in the head," he snarled, "and now she can barely stand up. She's—"

"Get her on the horse," Belegore said, worriedly, looking back over his shoulder. "We need to ride, or we will never get away before—"

"Don't be ridiculous," Dagnirhir laughed. "We're _miles_ from Minas Tirith."

"You do not _know_ these men," Belegore said nervously. "They are relentless."

"I agree," said Calendur, "and we must lead them far away from Gondor. Hurry—"

Suddenly, Enguina yanked away from Ahadil, throwing herself to her feet and leaping away…right into Dagnirhir's boot for a second time. He laughed when she fell, Ahadil yelling at the top of his lungs as he ran at Dagnirhir's horse. The bay bolted forward and Dagnirhir clipped his head on the tree in front of him. Howling, he let out a string of curses at Ahadil, who leaned down to check on Enguina again.

"Serves you right," Belegore snapped, "and shut your fat mouth. Everything for miles is going to hear your racket."

"She's out," Ahadil said, rolling her onto her back. "Damn it, Dagnirhir! Couldn't you just—"

"Enough bickering," Calendur said firmly, and the woods grew quiet. "Get her on the horse; _tie_ her on if you have to, but I want her in that saddle. Let Belegore pony her with him; his mount is the quietest. Get moving. Dagnirhir, go back and get Ahadil's horse… _now._ "

The man goosed his horse into a trot and left them behind. Ahadil scooped Enguina up. "Dagnirhir's right about one thing, though I'll never admit it to him," he grumbled as Belegore helped him pull the elf onto the horse.

"What is that?" the younger man asked.

"She's got some fight in her, but when she wakes up she's gonna have a poundin' headache." They lashed a rope around her just to keep her upright in the saddle. No one was going to risk her being in the saddle with them again.

* * *

Stepping onto Faramir's front porch, Aragorn reached for the door to knock. The door suddenly opened, and a fiery little red-head cried up to him. "Tirion!"

He grinned at her, despite the reason for his visit. "Where's your Father, little one?" he asked, and she ran back into the house calling for Faramir. The door was open, so Aragorn came inside, finding them sitting at the table. "Annî finally said my name."

"I heard!" Éowyn said, surprised. "Just these past two days she has been saying words left and right. I am amazed!"

"I cannot imagine _why_ you are standing in my house just now," Faramir sighed. "I thought we were resting."

"You do not appear to be resting either," he pointed out, closing the front door behind him. Annî resumed playing with her toys and he turned back to them. "Is it all right if I—"

"Oh, Lord! Please, sit down before you fall down," Éowyn said, pushing a chair out for him with her foot. Faramir laughed, shaking his head.

Aragorn raised his eyebrows as he sat. "Do I look that badly?"

"No, no," said Faramir, "she only knows that you and I have been working like slaves for the past eight or so hours. What can we do for you, Aragorn?"

"I must speak with you," he began. "Legolas discovered this morning that Enguina is missing."

" _Missing_?" cried Éowyn. "What can you mean?"

"She was lured to the stable very late last evening and then was taken by several men, including the new stable hand—"

"Belegore?" asked an incredulous Faramir. "That nice boy who helped me chase Annî in the stables on Sunday?"

"The very same, I am afraid," Aragorn said grimly. "The Three Hunters will travel again, for Wingfoot is needed. There is _much_ that needs to be done; there are citizens to care for, homes to be rebuilt, and a City to govern. Arwen will see to the people, but you must see both to the rebuilding and to her. In my stead, you must govern, to be my voice of reason on the Council. You are Prince of Ithilien; the people will hear your words of encouragement. I _must_ go after her."

"It is a trap, Aragorn! You must know it!" Faramir shook his head. "Nay, Aragorn, I cannot allow you to go. Tell me they were taken at the exact moment of the explosion; you _know_ it must be a trap. They lured her out, and they are now doing the same to you."

"Aragorn, this is a terrible idea—" began Éowyn as well, but Aragorn sighed.

"What would you have me do?" he asked. "I cannot allow Legolas to journey alone and my skill will be useful to track the responsible party."

"I cannot—"

"Faramir," he said, laying a hand on the man's arm, "if it had been Éowyn that was taken, do you believe that I would not ride to bring her safe return?" Faramir's eyes shone with sudden understanding. "I must do this for Enguina…and for Legolas. I would not do less for you."

Faramir frowned heavily. "Then perhaps I should ride with you—"

"No, you must do this for me. I need someone here that I can trust to work with Gimli's kin. They know you well and are distrustful of the Council." He sighed. "And you know very well how Arwen feels about the Council, for the most part."

"And she is justified. I know how _I_ feel about them," he replied darkly, "for what they did to you both. But I can be civil. I just…I really think this is a trap, Aragorn. I am worried about the three of you going out there."

"I cannot simply allow Enguina to vanish from our city. No, it will not do. We shall return soon if we leave quickly—within the week, I would estimate, for our horses are strong, fast, and willing. Theirs may not be so." Then, he looked between their eyes seriously. "I have one more very important task to ask of you, my friends."

"It shall be done within my power, Aragorn," pledged Faramir.

"While I am away, I would beg that you would both watch over Arwen for me. I _know_ her too well to think that she will rest when she needs to," he smiled humorlessly, "and I know she will be angry at me for asking you to watch over her."

"Éowyn can shadow her. They can rest together." She looked at Faramir and he winced as she reached over and hit him in the arm.

"I will only allow that because I love you."

"I know." Faramir looked back at Aragorn. "By my sword and my heart, my Lord, I swear an oath to protect your family as my own. You have my word."

"Thank you, both of you. I know she will be in the best of hands," he said softly. He rose and sighed. "I must go; I am running out of time and have yet to speak to the Council. Both of you, be safe."

"We will safeguard your treasure, Aragorn," Éowyn said, "and your people."

* * *

Aragorn moved with purpose towards the White Tower of Ecthelion, and it gleamed like a spike of pearl and silver in the morning sun just as Boromir had once told him. He walked in and up the stairs to the second level council chambers, meeting several guards along the way. He inquired with them about his people in the upper levels, and every response was well. Glad that things were progressing as he had planned, he moved into the council room.

The men of the Council were all well-known to him. He spent a lot of time with them, day in, day out. Noldore and Nardur were the two leading men, if you were to divide the Council into factions. Noldore was a good friend; older and hard-working, he was the type that saw a need and fulfilled it. He and Dintîr, a younger and more energetic sort, were the two whom Aragorn most readily trusted. Nardur, older as well, was the opposite of the spectrum. He could be vengeful and plotting, and, when seeing anything that would benefit Gondor, would be willing to sacrifice anything to make it happen.

"My Lord!" exclaimed Noldore. "We did not expect to see you until this afternoon!" The other members of the Council began looking up from their parchment and the reports of the guard brought in from last evening.

"You do not seem well-rested," Nardur said, raising his eyebrows at him.

"I am not, my Lords," he replied honestly, "and I have much yet to do. I have come to make you aware of a few recent developments that have come to my attention and need, very much, to be dealt with immediately." He had their attention as he stepped up to the table. He rested his hands upon it and looked to each one of them in turn.

"Speak, my Lord," Dintîr added, "tell us what has happened."

"As you all know, the explosion on the fourth level last night was no accident. I do not yet know _who_ is behind the catastrophe, but I can assure you that it was not an accident. In fact, it was a scheme and a distraction for us."

"An elaborate distraction," questioned Nardur, stroking his short, grey beard.

"And costly," he agreed, "I am sure you are looking at the numbers now that I had been staring at on the stones all morning. Fifteen dead and nearly fifty injured…men, women, and children. The guards tell me that they are being well-taken care of on the levels above, and that is good. Gimli's brethren, thank Ilúvatar's grace, have already pledged to help us rebuild portions of the wall and their homes." There were gasps and even applauding and much praising of the dwarves. He smiled. "Yes, I agree, we could not do much better.

"However, the reason I have come before you is not simply to report this good news. Someone that is dear to my family is now in great peril, and I _must_ see to them." He stood upright, crossing his arms. "The Lady Enguina, who most of you met and know quite well from the other evening and from seeing her about the City, has been taken hostage. I do not know the reason this has happened, but she is practically family. The snatchers have almost surely escaped the City during the confusion; Lord Gimli is investigating the truth of that as we speak. As I am the best hunter and tracker, after years of doing both in the Wilds of Arnor, it is necessary that I lead a small search party to locate her and return her to Minas Tirith. In doing this, I will also capture those who I believe are responsible for this most heinous crime against our fair City."

Aragorn knew quite well that they would not be pleased about him leaving the City for any reason, especially during this time. But he also knew, after years of working with the Council, how to work them. He had told them exactly what they needed to know; he was searching for those he believed responsible.

"You believe that the men who took the Lady are responsible for the chaos of last night?" Noldore asked worriedly. "To create such a diversion to take one woman captive?"

"Yes, I believe. Again, I cannot imagine what purpose they see in it, but I must ride with Prince Legolas and Lord Gimli and seek them out. I have the best chance of finding them." He cleared his throat. "In the meantime, I have taken steps to ensure that Prince Faramir will remain at the head of the guard and work closely with Gimli's kin to restore order to the fourth level. The Queen and Princess Éowyn will work closely with the people who remain homeless for the moment. Everything is in order."

"You will take no guard with you?" Nardur asked, quite unhappily. "That is not very—"

"It will be the swiftest way," Aragorn assured him. "We will be home much faster if it is just us three. My hope is to return within, at most, two weeks. If we leave within the next few hours, I hope to catch them even more swiftly."

"What if, Elessar," Nardur said quickly, "this kidnapping is just another distraction in the part of a greater plan? What if there is something more foul at work here?"

The room was quiet. "Then, my Lord," Aragorn replied, "I shall have to leave the defense of our City in the capable hands of the Captain of the Guard and this ruling Council. I believe that Minas Tirith will be safe, and this is something that I alone must do."

"The weather is becoming fouler," Dintîr said. "You need to be careful, my Lord."

He smiled. "My Lords, a little foul weather is common in winter, and I have lived outside in most of it in parts of Arnor where it is so cold your breath freezes. I know how to take care of myself. Please, in my absence, I ask that you will give the Queen and Prince Faramir every courtesy you would have given me with the upcoming challenges of rebuilding the City. I know the people are in good hands."

"Good journey, my Lord." There was a chorus of 'good journeys.'

"Good hunting," added Dintîr as Aragorn turned away. He smiled and looked back over his shoulder.

"Thank you."

* * *

Aragorn entered the front door of the King's House. As he closed it behind him, he realized that all was quiet in the House. Suddenly worried that Legolas had been unable to convince her to come back, he walked into the other room where he found her, leaning against the threshold to the bedroom. As he went to her, he noticed over her shoulder that all of his gear, provisions, and saddlebags were on their unmade bed.

"You have been busy, my love," he whispered, and she leaned into him when he wrapped his arms around her. "Are you all right?" He had seen the tears in her eyes.

"It was Dagnirhir," she whispered. "One of the men who took her was the man from the market and the butcher's, the man you have been looking for."

"What? How do you—"

"Hildanir saw him, fought him in the barn." She clutched him. "Aragorn, if he—"

"He will not," he said firmly, even gruffly. "We will find him before he can lay his hands on her again. I do not know their purpose; I cannot imagine their aim. But we will find them, and bring them to justice."

"I am so worried. I want her to be safe."

"She will be. We will find her, I promise."

"Strider is on the hunt," she said softly, and he stroked her hair. "Legolas told me you were to speak to the Council."

"Yes," he replied. "Faramir is going to take care of the rebuilding. You, of course, along with Éowyn, will be taking care of the people."

"Thank you," she whispered, looking up into his face.

"For what, love?"

"For giving me something to do so I will not be out of my _mind_ with worry about the four of you," she replied. "And for finding a clever way for Éowyn to watch me without telling me outright you do not wish me to leave the House while you are away."

"I…I want you to leave the House," he said a bit defensively, but she could see there was a reason for it. "Arwen…I have not left your side for almost seven years," he continued, stroking her face, "and the most difficult thing for me to do is going to be to leave those gates without you beside me."

"But you must go, and I cannot," she said honestly and he slipped a hand over her womb. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his. "Ilúvatar, this is awful," she whispered, "I did not think it would be this hard." Her breath caught at the end; she had not wanted him to see her cry, not for this…not when she knew he needed to leave, that she _wanted_ him to go, to find Enguina. It was difficult enough. He slipped his hand about the back of her head and kissed her…so many times she did not count them. And then he proceeded to kiss the tears away on her face, until she heard the front door open.

She released him then, even though he tried to hold on to her another moment. "Go," she whispered, raising her hand to touch his chin. "You must get ready." He did not move, indecision on his every feature; she gave his chest a gentle push, more tears coming to her eyes even as she tried to wipe them away. " _Stop_ , Aragorn…this is difficult enough." She slipped out of his arms, and this time, he let her go, turning into their bedroom to get ready as she said.

She walked out into the kitchen, still trying to regain some self-control; Legolas watched her, leaning against the table. He reached out a hand, but she held hers up. He had seen her cry many times in her life; this was only one more.

"Do not," she whispered brokenly, wiping a hand beneath her eyes again, "it will not help."

"I am sorry," he said softly. "Is Aragorn ready?"

"Almost. Where is Gimli?"

"I think I heard him yelling all the way from the third level about clearing out of his way," he said with a smile and Arwen laughed through the last of her tears.

"That sounds like him."

"He should be here any moment, then," Legolas added. She looked at him, crossing her arms; she appeared, to him, much more in control now.

"You seem to be much cleaner…more relaxed."

"Yes, Aragorn was right as usual. I needed the time to become myself again and be…less frantic. I needed to think."

"What did you think about?" she asked, and Legolas sighed.

"More than I should have, I am sure, so that part probably did not go as well as Aragorn had planned. I might murder a person or two if one hair on Enguina's head is out of place when we find them…and I might ask her to wed me on the way home if I have even a tiny bit of encouragement from the dwarf on the return journey. Both of which would probably be very bad ideas if I ask Aragorn to perform the ceremony while we are out."

Arwen looked cross for a moment. "Oh…that would be _very_ bad for you upon your return."

"I knew it," he groaned. "I will have to restrain myself."

"Indeed, you will."

"I love her, Arwen," he said softly, looking into her face. "I love her as if I had never loved anyone before…as though I did not even know what love was before she came into my life. She has the _face_ of love…she is perfect for me; my match in every way."

Arwen smiled. "I know."

"You know?" he shook his head. "How could you know? _I_ did not even know how perfectly we would come together. We just fit."

"I could see it," she said softly, "I have known you both for so long, Legolas…you forget. I thought, since she arrived, that if you were willing, you could be the one to heal her heart. She is so close…"

"She was, before this," he whispered. "I may have to begin again."

"Is she worth it?" she asked.

"Does the sun rise and set? Is Sauron vanquished forever? Does Aragorn adore and love you? If the answer to all these questions is still 'yes,' then you know my answer."

"The answer is _definitely_ yes," Aragorn said, coming into the room and wrapping an arm around Arwen's waist, "but most especially to the last question."

Legolas smiled. "That was quick."

Gimli barged in through the door, holding his axe. "Gah!" he said, brushing snow from his beard, "what a trip!" He sighed and dropped his axe on the dining room table behind Legolas. "Well, my information finding's complete."

"And? Impart your wisdom so we can be on our way," Legolas said.

"Five horses went through the gate last night; in all the chaos, they got out of the front gate and made it all the way out to Rammas Echor. Five sets of prints in the snow, and when I arrived and began asking questions, I found someone who was _paid_ to let them out! Says a man named Ahadil paid him."

"Hildanir mentioned his name," Arwen confirmed. "He was a guard during the War and before that. He was the one who took Enguina."

"Well, he paid the man fairly well, and the fool, who had no idea what he was doin', never thought to ask _why_ they needed to be let out of the City." He shook his head. "No brains in that poor man's skull at all."

Legolas frowned. "So, we ride out for certain."

"For certain," Aragorn said. "We know there might be up to five men, at least Belegore and Ahadil for sure."

"And I am sure it is likely that man, Dagnirhir, who we have been chasing since Saturday, is in on this as well," Legolas said darkly. "He, out of any of them, has motive."

Aragorn nodded. "So we know three out of a possible five."

"Nothin' we can't handle," added Gimli, picking up his axe again. "Let's be off. The sooner we leave, the sooner we get back! _And_ the horses are up and well…and rearin' for a fight if the sounds are anything to go by."

Legolas looked to Arwen. "Be safe."

"You three be safe," she said in her quiet way. "You shall be the ones in danger."

"What danger?" laughed Gimli, hefting his axe. "Five men against the Three Hunters? No contest, Arwen, and I intend to get them all myself."

"Dagnirhir is _mine_."

"Do not fight," Aragorn said, rolling his eyes, "at least not in the House. Go outside in the snow and decide who gets who." Gimli left first, still arguing, and Legolas followed him out. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the door shut behind his boots. The elf smiled.

"Now," Aragorn said, laying Andúril upon the table and pressing her up against the wall behind the door, "where was I before I was so rudely interrupted?" She sighed softly, trying to keep her composure, but unable to respond as he stroked his hands tenderly along her face, brushing her ears with his fingertips. "Ah…yes," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, "I was kissing you senseless."

As he lowered his mouth to hers, he felt her hands wrap up and around his neck and wind themselves in his hair. He kissed her for an untold amount of time, stopping only to rest his forehead against hers, looking into her face. Both of their faces were wet; he was not sure if his was because of hers, or if he was crying as well. It mattered so little.

"Ilúvatar, I love you…" he heard her whisper. "I love you so much, Estel," she whispered. She did not call him by that name very often. He kissed her again, and then lowered himself to one knee before her, resting his hands along her womb. She was crying then, quietly, but definitely crying.

"Little one," he whispered, his lips pressed to her belly, "I have to go away for a few days, but I will be back before you know it. I love you…be good for your mother." He heard her laugh, but it sounded like a sob. He stood again and pressed his foot to the door when he heard heavy footsteps on the porch.

"Don't make me come in there and get you!" they heard Gimli call from outside. There was a thump and a shout. "You lousy pointy-ear!" More thumping as Gimli made his way back down into the snow and off the porch.

"Beloved, I love you, too," he said tenderly. "Please, be safe; take time to rest. Visit Asfaloth, he will be lonely."

"Go," she whispered, kissing him again. "Go, and be quick and bring her back." She somehow got her hands to release him, and she clasped them tightly behind her back, preventing herself from grabbing at him as he turned to go.

And then he was gone…and she wiped her face and leaned her head back against the wall of the House and stood there in the silence for many long moments before she could convince herself to stop replaying those last few desperate kisses in her head.

* * *

When the Three Hunters entered the stable, it was in an uproar, with much stamping of hooves and whinnying and rearing. The horses were in great agitation, and with all of them talking amongst themselves and over each other, Aragorn's ears were ringing.

"Hauto!" he cried, and the horses nearest to him at least calmed down. He lowered his arms. "I know you are upset about what happened, and I know you would like a chance to settle the score with the men who took Enguina. We are to ride to her aid." Brego whinnied and tossed his head up and down several times and Aragorn reached out and placed a hand on his neck. "I know, and we will."

"They've been a bit wild since I returned," said Gimli. "I think they know what went on but they could do nothing about it."

Aragorn nodded. "They saw it all. It only confirms what we knew happened."

Legolas's features tightened. "Did they harm her?" Glosbrethil tossed his head and the elf's eyes became positively wild, dark and vicious. "They will pay…" he said in a low voice, stroking the grey's neck.

Aragorn reached over to Legolas and placed a hand on his arm. The light in Legolas' eyes died as he turned to look at the man. "Let us get ready." As the elf began to quickly ready Glosbrethil, he was glad that Aragorn had not tried to calm him. He looked up as he saw Gimli still standing in the middle of the barn aisle.

"What is your indecision, Gimli? What is wrong?"

"It is these large, fast horses you ride!" he sighed. "Firgenwine is steadfast and quick sure, but she'd have to run twice as hard and fast to keep up, and we'd fall behind very quickly or slow down the journey."

"Then I say to you, Gimli," said Aragorn, moving into Brego's stall, "you must choose another mount that shall better serve this purpose. You may take Asfaloth, if you so desire; I know he wishes to come, and Arwen will be all right with it."

Gimli snorted. "Yes, but Asfaloth is a swift Elvish horse. How am I, a dwarf, to ride an Elvish stallion?"

Legolas nodded. "Asfaloth may not be a perfect match for you, Gimli, but if I am correct, Enguina will also need a horse to return on." He thought a moment, and Morlómërog stamped his hooves. Legolas nodded; it was perfect. "He has chosen for you. Take Enguina's horse, Morlómërog, for he is a horse of men, and on the return home you shall ride behind me on Glosbrethil. Is this well?"

Gimli looked at the big black doubtfully, but the stallion shook his mane. "I hope we shall come to an understanding, you and I," he said to Lómë, beginning to tack him up. The horse whinnied in return and nudged him.

"He wants you to know that he will carry you well, dwarf, whether you are a good rider or no," translated Aragorn, attaching his gear to Brego's saddle. "Any friend of Enguina is a friend of his, and to any man who seeks to rescue her, he shall lend his aid."

Gimli laughed and patted the stallion's neck. He leaned in to the steed and whispered, "For another Lady of the Golden Wood we shall ride, hmm?" Lómë tossed his head in agreement.

Legolas leaned over the door and raised his eyebrows at Aragorn. "Do you believe he would be as eager if he understood Elvish?" he asked softly.

Aragorn smiled. "The less Gimli knows of the language, the better. He does not need to know what the stallion's name means." They both wore secret smiles.

Faramir met them just outside the barn as the three of them began to mount. He stood quietly at first, and then moved forward to stand beside Brego as Aragorn looked down at him.

"Ride with all speed, my Lords, and return to us as quickly as possible. I pray that you will be bearing the Lady with you uninjured. May we see you as soon as you think." He laid a hand on Aragorn's knee.

"We shall return as quickly as we may, Faramir," replied Aragorn.

"Within the week we shall be upon them," stated Legolas, "and they shall feel the wrath of elf, man, and dwarf. Enguina _will_ be safe." His face was full of confidence, even if his heart was full of worry. He would find her, even if it cost him everything; he could think of nothing save her. He mounted Glosbrethil, who was impatient to begin this journey.

Suddenly, Faramir laughed. "Gimli, do you need some help?" The stirrups on the black's saddle had been shortened for Gimli's legs, but now he could not mount!

"Yes, yes! Get over here and help me, you clumsy oaf!" laughed Gimli, and Legolas and Aragorn smiled as well. Faramir gave him a leg up into the saddle and soon he was ready.

"It is well that you will be _riding_ for many days and not camping; you will waste far too much time in mounting!" Faramir still laughed.

"And we're wasting too much in speech with _you_!" stated Gimli. "Let us journey!"

"Farewell, Faramir, I trust you will protect my family and my people!" said Aragorn.

"All will be well, my Lord. Good journey!" he replied, and he clasped a hand over his heart as the Three Hunters did the same and bowed their heads.

They lifted their heads then and turned to make their way out through the City and across the Pelennor, where they would find the trail of those they sought.


	24. Chapter 24

Author's Note: Thanks to my reviewers! :O) I'm glad you're enjoying the story! I seriously enjoyed writing it!

* * *

Snow was falling thickly all around Enguina as the horse she rode trudged through the higher drifts. They were somewhere in Ithilien, if her directions were correct, though she could not be sure. She had been unconscious for some time, but now that she was able to remain upright on her own, she was not lashed to the saddle horn aside from her wrists. Her balance was very difficult at the moment as her head was pounding from the foot to the head she had received. It was, however, good that this rope would not be holding her for long.

The man, Dagnirhir, she had since learned his name, was completely foul. She could _feel_ him, even now, staring at her back as though she were a piece of meat that he was going to eat for his next meal. It made her shiver; it made her sick. She _yearned_ to be back in Minas Tirith—it was funny how she thought of it as _home_ now—and to be seated in the King's House at the table. She imagined herself just having cooked dinner with Legolas, looking over and seeing Annî chatting up a storm, the entire room filled with the fellowship of friends and family, having Arwen's face light up with joy when Aragorn arrived for dinner, and…Legolas, there he was, sitting across from her.

Yes, she wanted to be home. There was no denying how much she wanted to reach out and stroke the face of the man who loved her. She wondered what he was doing right now; what had happened after she had been taken. Would they come and search for her? Would they know she had been taken from the City? Would they find Hildanir? Was he even alive? She prayed; Ilúvatar was the only one who could rescue her, who could send them to save her.

Her neck and shoulders ached, and so did a whole slew of other body parts after throwing herself to the ground from horseback before. And here, she was thinking about doing it again; she must be mad. But there was no way she was going to allow them to take her anywhere they pleased without a fight. She cracked an eye. Calendur, the elf, was out in front with Ahadil directly behind him, muttering to himself as he pressed his horse forward. Belegore rode before her, leading her horse along behind his own…and she could not see the other. Dagnirhir, the one she had the most reason to fear, must be riding behind her, his filthy stare boring holes into her back. Twisting her wrists just a little bit from side to side, she tried to loosen the rope and possibly free herself enough to get lose. If she could free her hands, she might be able to turn the horse and gallop away from the others…back home. She twisted again and again and—

The hit came out of nowhere, and her head snapped to the side, causing her brain to spin and the pounding fired through her skull, leaving her bent off the side of the horse, vomiting. She heard a laugh, and knew immediately it had been Dagnirhir.

"Look at her! Sick as a dog!"

"Whoa, _whoa_!" she heard Belegore say, and her horse stopped on a dime, pitching her forward against the horn. "What the hell is the matter with you?" he continued. "You have already hurt her head so badly she is nearly confused, you fool. You are going to kill her!"

"She was tryin' to free her hands!" Dagnirhir snapped back. "I'm telling you; teach her a lesson early and she won't soon forget it."

"She will not remember _anything_ if you keep hitting her in the head!" Belegore shot back.

"Get moving, you two!" hollered Ahadil back to them. "It's almost dark and we need to be under cover of the trees."

"On it!" Dagnirhir called back. Belegore reached out and took her shoulder in his hand, trying to sit her upright. She wrenched away from him and nearly lost her balance and fell from the saddle. Dagnirhir, on her other side, shoved her back towards the man, laughing. "Stay on your horse, lovely lady, or you'll be riding with _me_." Eyes closed, breathing shallowly to prevent vomiting again, Enguina flinched but she tried to ignore him.

Belegore did not even try. Reaching up into the branches of the nearest tree, he snapped off a long switch and whipped it over Enguina's horse's flank…directly onto the flanks of Dagnirhir's sorrel. The horse leaped forward in a panic and the man nearly fell off trying to rein the poor beast back in. "I am all out of patience," Belegore muttered under his breath, taking the rope attached to the horse and turning his own mount about. He did not ask her if she was all right, but turned back to continue leading her along.

Up ahead, Dagnirhir was shouting and cursing, but Ahadil just told him to stow it. No one was in a good temper and Enguina, her head aching, left her hands alone.

* * *

It was just after midday and they had been traveling at a fairly quick pace through the woods. The band of kidnappers was nearing the borders of Ithilien now; Enguina had been silent the last few hours, trying to ease the ache in her head and not causing any trouble in the least. The last thing she wanted in the world was to be hit in the face again by Dagnirhir; he was far too prone to hitting her in the head. Suddenly, up ahead, Calendur drew the party to a slow walk. He was staring around at the trees.

"Something…" he muttered, "something is not quite right."

"What's going on?" asked Ahadil, and Dagnirhir rode up alongside Enguina even as she turned her eyes away from him. "Trouble?"

"I am not—"

" _Halt_!"

Two very well-disguised bowmen stepped out from behind a nearby tree, and Calendur's horse stopped in surprise, snorting. The elf held up his hand looking at the two of them and judging their aim even as the rest of his company drew to a halt. It did not take Enguina two seconds to come to the conclusion that this could be her chance for a serious escape, especially when Dagnirhir moved closer to Belegore, leaving her unwatched. She immediately began twisting her wrists against the saddle's horn.

"You are trespassing in the Realm of Gondor and the land of Ithilien!" called out one of the Rangers. "State your business, travelers!" The man's hood cast his face into shadow, but both of the men had their arrows aimed for one of the riders.

"We are just on our way from the City of Minas Tirith," Calendur said, looking down at the man. "If you simply allow us to pass, we shall be out of your way in moments."

"Where are you headed?"

"Eryn Lasgalen," he said with a sly little smile, readying his dagger, "we thought a bit of a side trip was in order. We heard that Ithilien was beautiful country from Captain Faramir; we are friends of the King." One of the men seemed to hesitate.

"You men're awfully alone way out here," added Dagnirhir. "What's Gondor need to be guarding in the middle of the forest?"

"These lands are near the borders of Ithilien," the Ranger replied, and sidestepped, his bow still aimed at Calendur's heart, looking down the line at the rest of the party. Tilting his head to meet Belegore's eyes, he said, "Are you truly friends of Captain Faramir?"

"Why, yes," Calendur began, "we—"

"They lie! _They lie_!" Enguina cried out suddenly, and both men were distracted by her voice just long enough for Dagnirhir to draw his dagger as well. "They hold me _captive_! _Please, help!_ " Belegore whirled to look at her…and then all _hell_ broke loose.

Both Calendur and Dagnirhir flung their daggers into the throats of the Ithilien Rangers who fell with a gurgle. The elf immediately drew his bow and readied an arrow as several came flying out of the woods. The riders worked quickly to get the horses out of danger and Calendur began firing arrows back into the brush; Dagnirhir had readied his bow and was aiming at the other side. There were several attackers, and as the horses were stumbling about and they were fired upon, Enguina's rope finally snapped free.

 _Praise Ilúvatar!_ Listening to her captors yelling to each other, she reached out as far as she could from the saddle and grabbed the rope that was attached to her mount's halter. She blinked, cleared her eyes, ducked under an arrow and _yanked_ the rope out of Belegore's hand, nearly dragging him from the saddle. He shouted, snatching for it, but she pulled her horse's head towards the direction they had come and dug her heels into his sides. Her mount, eager to be headed towards Minas Tirith and away from battle, broke into a lope away from the fighting. The snow was not as thick in this portion of the woods, and she had not given thought to how she was going to rein in the horse or steer him with a rope attached only under his chin. She figured that after she was a mile or so away, she could work to figure that out.

An arrow sliced through the skin of her right arm, and she hissed, reaching up to grab the wound. But she was seeing freedom now, and she was not going to stop for _anything_ …not if she could help it. She urged the horse faster as she got into the trees; a part of her felt guilty for abandoning the Rangers to fend for themselves, but she was unarmed and could not help them anyway.

Something flashed past her vision and brushed against her tunic, and she looked down to see a rope lying over her arms. A moment of confusion led to panic and desperation as she released the make-shift rein to quickly toss it off—but it was too late for that. The rope went taut around her body and she was suddenly yanked from the saddle. Her foot caught in the stirrup, yanked and twisted her ankle for half-a-moment, and then she flew free—suddenly, landing hard against the ground on the shoulder she had injured in the market. A _pop_ sounded, and she wailed with pain; she lay right where she fell, unable to function, unable to think of _anything_ but the agony tearing through her. Tears rolled down her face as she gasped, struggling to get air into her lungs after having the wind knocked out of her. There was nothing but the pain; she did not even have the presence of mind to fight back.

"Get the horse, Belegore!" Ahadil yelled as he leapt down out of the saddle, her rope still attached to the saddle horn of his mount. He heard Belegore calling the horse to a halt as he reached Enguina's side, glaring down at her. " _Damn_ you, woman! Tryin' to escape at _every_ turn!"

She could not even focus on his words, could not even care what he was saying, what he was about to do. He reached down and undid the rope he had caught her with, but she did not move until he rolled her onto her back. " _Belegore_!" he hollered. "Ah, _damn it!"_ He crouched down by her and grabbed her by the throat. _"_ Every single Ranger for _miles_ is going to hear you! Shut it; just shut yer mouth!" He leaned back over his shoulder and hollered for Belegore again.

"What?" he said nastily, dragging the horse back along by the rope again, this time tying it off to his saddle. As he drew near, he heard her calling out. "What the _hell_ , Ahadil—"

"I think she might've broken her shoulder," he snapped, standing up. "She's screaming bloody hell!"

"You dragged her off the horse, idiot!" Belegore replied, leaping out of the saddle himself to kneel down by her. Belegore grimaced, but looked back up to Ahadil. "Get back down here," he insisted, "I need your hands."

"I didn't know how else to stop her!" Ahadil complained in reply. "What was I supposed to do?" He obeyed Belegore and knelt down to hold Enguina's left side, she writhed beneath the two men, hearing Calendur yelling behind them. Belegore rested his hand on her shoulder and she cried out again, her eyes wild with pain.

"This is going to _hurt_ ," he said, and he flung all of his body weight down through his hands. She _screamed_ and there was a _snap!_ and then her shoulder was back in place. She lay there, panting underneath his hands as Ahadil leaned back, looking up at Calendur astride his horse.

"We were lucky there were only four of them," the elf said. "They are dead now. What in the devil are you two doing down there?"

"She was escaping—" began Belegore, but he was interrupted by Enguina trying to rapidly shove him away from her so she could escape. She tried to roll, but Ahadil grabbed her left shoulder and slammed her back down onto the ground.

"By all that's holy," Ahadil muttered, staring at her as she winced in pain, her head and shoulder aching, "you don't know when to _quit!_ " He needed to be sure she was not going to try anything again, so he drew his dagger and rested it against her throat. "Stay still before you're dead. That's enough out of you for the moment," he snapped, and then he looked back at Calendur. "We weren't supposed to hurt any Gondorians. When you recruited me—"

"Plans _change,_ Ahadil," he sneered. "Come now, you do not think that those men would have let us pass _knowing_ that we had a captive? Never. We had no choice."

Ahadil glared at him. "And what about in Gondor? The Fourth Level? The _explosion_?!"

"I agree, Calendur," Belegore said softly. "That was a bit—"

"Enough!" he snapped. "We did what we had to do. We have a _goal,_ gentlemen! To achieve that goal we must make sacrifices. Now…get her back on that horse, make sure she is tied to it so well it _hurts_ , and let's be on our way. We still have a few hours before nightfall." He turned his horse away as Belegore began to tie Enguina's hands back together. She tried to tug her hands away, but Ahadil just pressed his knife deeper against her throat.

"Get her up," Ahadil snapped, irritated about the entire situation. "I want this over with as soon as we can get it. I want my share and I want outta this mess!"

Belegore could not agree more with his sentiments. This journey, this deal they had with Calendur was _not_ what was promised. He hauled her to her feet and pushed her towards the horse she had been riding where she stumbled into its side. She caught herself and pushed back, only to be struck across the face by Ahadil. He had not hit her hard; it got her attention. Wrapping his hand around her upper arm, he dragged her close to his face.

"Try to escape again, and I'll knock you out myself."

With everyone so near, Enguina knew that at the moment, there was no chance of escape. She might as well settle down for the moment and go along with them. After all, she had tried for the third time and…it had not been successful. She let them get her on horseback again.

* * *

It seemed like they had only been traveling a few hours when the Three Hunters came upon the first interesting set of tracks in the snow.

"Whoa, ho!" called Gimli, and Legolas and Aragorn pulled their horses up short. "Something strange happened here!" Both rode back to him, and Aragorn nodded.

"Good eye, Gimli."

"Enguina," Legolas said, pointing to the light indentations in the snow. "Only she would be able to walk on the snow."

"Yes, she clearly was trying to escape." The two of them rode along the trail as Gimli waited on the original path.

"Did she? Did she get away?"

"No," Legolas said, shaking his head. "The tracks end here."

"They chased her on horseback," Aragorn added, pointing. "They caught her here, had a struggle in the snow. She fell, twice, staggering."

"She's injured then," Gimli called and Legolas growled.

"I will kill them," he muttered, his fists clenching on his reins. Brethil tossed his head.

Aragorn nodded. "She is definitely injured, or she would have run much further. My guess is whatever they gave her made her confused; she was not running very straight. We are quite far into Ithilien."

"She would not know this area," Legolas added. "She would be blindly running."

"How far ahead are they? Can you tell, Aragorn?" Gimli called out to them.

"About the same. It is getting dark, and there will be no moon tonight. We should ride on for as long as we can, but then we will _have_ to stop."

"We will lose the trail," Legolas said, glumly.

"Yes," he agreed gently. "Come, let us gain on them as much as we can." The two of them turned their horses and headed back to Gimli and the trail.

* * *

Camp that night was either very late in the evening or very early morning; Enguina could hardly tell which. It was so dark outside that it had taken Ahadil and Dagnirhir to be nearly knocked from their mounts for them to convince Calendur that it was a good idea to call a halt. Belegore had tried to urge them on, but the elf's word was law and there was nothing that could be said against him. Dismounting, Dagnirhir and Belegore began setting up camp as Ahadil came to her to untie her from the saddle.

She had been waiting for this moment: another opportunity to make her escape into the woods. Dark as it was, she might be able to run into the trees and hide before anyone could follow and find her. Ahadil worked to untie her hands from the saddle horn, though not from each other; he finally finished his work and she kicked him in the chest for the second time, knocking him backwards as she leapt down from the saddle. She could not escape on horseback, as her horse was already tied up, so running for her life was the only option. Quickly, with a speed known only too well to her race, she hopped over him and hurried towards the darkness.

Snarling, Ahadil reached for her and _just_ happened to wrap his hand around her ankle, yanking her back and to the ground. She fell _hard_ , unable to brace herself as her hands were still bound. He dragged her back toward him through the snow.

"You little—" He did not get much further before she rolled to her back and brought her leg up, knocking him in the jaw with her foot and trying to yank away. But Ahadil was prepared for her this time, and aside from a shout of pain and a sharp _crack_ from his mouth, he held tight to her ankle, slamming his other hand down to hold her knee to the ground.

She _panicked_ , the scene a bit too much like an old dream, and she lurched forward, knocking her hands up and under his chin with such force that his head snapped back. Before she could lean away or roll to the side, he released her ankle and slapped her _hard_ across the face, lunging forward in the second that her eyes turned away and coming down on top of her, straddling her body and grabbing her hands to keep them still.

" _No_!" she cried, gasping and he snarled down into her face. She kneed him in the back twice, trying to dislodge him, but he did not budge. She _had_ to get away, she _had_ to!

"Stop that!" he shouted, though his words were a bit of a struggle around his injured jaw. She yanked her leg up again, tossing him forward against her upper body. He snarled ferociously and brought his elbow down hard into the center of her chest. All her breath left her and she lay there beneath him, stunned. "God! You _are_ a feisty one!" he snapped, and it was clearly _not_ a compliment. "You'd best learn some respect, lass. Whether you like it or not, you're here for good; there ain't goin' to be an escape. Not for you."

"Ahadil! What the _hell_ are you doing?"

Calendur's voice could be heard across the camp as the man dragged her to her feet. He glanced back towards Enguina, tugging the elf by the rope that bound her hands. Trying desperately to wrench away from him again, she slammed her foot down on his and yanked back with all her body weight.

" _Enough I said!"_ Ahadil shouted, and slapped her across the face so hard the ring on his hand split open the skin above her left eye. As she tried to raise her head and he struck her again, creating a gash along her upper cheekbone. She went down to one knee, pain flaring through her face and he dragged her back to her feet, forcing her to stumble along with him. "Now, I don't fancy hittin' a woman, but you've had enough chances!" he snarled nastily. "Do what I say, or suffer the punishment!" Enguina lurched along behind him almost as though she had too much to drink, her left eye swelling already. Her head was spinning again; she knew that she would pay for the resistance.

"She tried to escape… _again_!" Ahadil snapped as he threw her to the ground at Calendur's feet. The elf had been standing near his horse, and he turned to face them both. Enguina knelt, not lifting her head to look up at him, but Ahadil, behind her, grabbed her hair and yanked her face up to towards him; she gasped. "I don't know _what_ we're going to do with 'er—"

"Teach her a lesson," Dagnirhir said gruffly, from off to Calendur's left. "I'm _telling_ you—"

"Quiet," Calendur said, his voice soft but commanding. He looked down into her now-bloodied face and grabbed her chin. "Look at me, Enguina."

She did not open her eyes, refusing to look into those evil violet ones, and was rewarded with another slap to the face. Her shoulders fell, the skin around her eyes tight with pain, as he repeated his direction. She still refused, and he struck her again, her lip splitting this time. Bile rose in her throat, her stomach spinning just like her head. She had not been in so much physical pain ever before.

"Stop!" called Belegore, holding out his hand. "Ilúvatar in Heaven, you three are going to kill her! Let her _go_ ; she can barely hold her head up as it is!"

The elf ignored him and once again, told her to look at him. When Enguina ignored him again, Calendur nodded to Dagnirhir, and took a step away from her, clasping his hands behind his back. Ahadil released her when Calendur signaled, letting her drop to her hands, breathing hard, trying to collect her scattered thoughts.

" _No,_ wait!" she heard Belegore say.

"Shut it, Belegore," Ahadil slurred around his cracked jaw. "She needs to learn!"

She heard something behind her, a sliding of sorts, and then two different men muttering. She was not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her fear them. Fighting to collect herself, she struggled to sit upright—

" _Don't—_ "

Pain _fired_ through her back, and she doubled over, gasping as she fell forward and landed on her forearms. The second strike hit her across the small of her back and she _did_ cry out then, dropping her face to her hands as tears came to her eyes. She clenched them shut as he belted her a third time; the resounding _snap_ echoed through the dark woods and she knew it was just that he was hitting her with—a belt, thick, strong and leather. She tried to roll away from the next hit, but Ahadil lashed out with his foot and hit her in the ribs— _hard._

 _CRACK!_ Enguina cried out and tried to grab her side as she heard someone yelling. She dropped forward again onto her forearms as Dagnirhir struck her three more times, the last one the hardest across her lower back. Then, at Calendur's signal, Ahadil's hand was in her hair again, dragging her upright to her knees, her head tilted back as she gasped in pain.

" _Sweet Eru_ ," she heard someone, possibly Belegore, mutter. She could not care.

"Now, do as I say," Calendur said, his voice soft, but firm, "and look at me." Sweat dripping into her eyes from the exertion, she could do nothing else but look at him as he gripped her chin again, his fingers digging into her jaw. He stared into her face. "You will not try to escape again, Enguina. If you do, you will pay _severely_. Do you understand me?"

She could not answer him; she stared back with pain in her eyes, her back and side on fire, but she refused to answer him. She would not give him the satisfaction. They stared at each other, and his eyes never flickered from hers, but she slammed her eyes shut just as she heard the whistle of the belt as it struck down across her shoulders. The pain made her weak, but she was held upright by Ahadil, as Dagnirhir clearly was enjoying making her pay for the marks she had put in his face. He struck her back, then her shoulders twice more before the tears in her eyes fell on her face, her breath coming out in gasps, putting more pressure on her now cracked ribs, her body trembling as she waited for another. It came; this last time directly across the exposed back of her neck. She screamed aloud as Dagnirhir reared back for another strike. Belegore leapt forward finally, grabbing his arm.

"Good god, the lot of you!" he yelled. "Stop abusing her! She has had enough, I tell you! _Enough!_ "

" _Stop_ , Calendur," agreed Ahadil, but he would not release her without Calendur's order. "We've gotta rest sometime tonight—"

Again, the elf ignored them as Dagnirhir brushed the belt against the back of her neck. She shuddered uncontrollably, knowing he meant for her to imagine as though it were his hand. " _Look at me_. Do you understand, Enguina?" Calendur asked again, his voice the same, indifferent murmur.

She opened her eyes, her left nearly swollen closed now from Ahadil's ring and looked at him, her teeth grinding as she tried to keep the pain at bay, feeling the welts rising on the back of her neck, her shoulders, her back. The last thing in the world that she wanted was to answer him…but she did not want to receive another beating either.

" _Yes_ ," she whispered painfully. It nearly sounded like a gasp.

"See how easy that was?" he said to her with a smile, then he looked at Dagnirhir, nodding. "The man was right; I suppose a sound beating is quite a way to get results. Look at how much more… _respectful_ we are." He nodded to Ahadil. "Tie her up over there, and make sure her hands and feet are tightly bound. We do not want her running off in the middle of the night, do we?" He turned away and began unloading his bedroll from his horse as Ahadil dragged her to her feet. Her back screamed, and she stumbled again, jarring it and her ribs as she fell back down to one knee. He let her fall, pulling her along until he felt she was far enough away from where they would sleep, tossing her to the ground. She was ashamed to admit that she barely struggled when he tied her ankles very tightly together.

"If yeh just did what yeh were told," Ahadil muttered to her as he worked, "there wouldn't have _been_ a beating." He made sure the bounds on her hands were extra tight; they _hurt_ , nearly as much as her back, and then he tied a rope between the two bindings so she would not be able to leave that position. He stood, leaving her on the ground as she tried to catch her breath.

Still hearing the movements of camp being set up, Enguina lay still. She heard the snow crunch near her and she jerked her head, expecting something awful or another strike. Her nose filled with the scent of whiskey and she squirmed, trying to get away as a hand stroked against her aching back. Wrenching forward, she arched her body to get away from the touch, and all the muscles in her shoulders pulled.

"Please!" she cried out, but a hand covered her mouth and she looked up into his face as he gripped her hip with the other hand, lazily dragging it back and lower until he grabbed her backside. She tried to yank away, screeching into his hand, her eyes wide and staring, unable to catch her breath,

" _If he would give me ten minutes with you_ ," Dagnirhir's voice whispered to her and her blood went cold as ice. " _Just_ _ten minutes—_ "

"Dagnirhir, get away from her," Belegore snapped, walking towards them. Dagnirhir stood and leered down at her. Breathless, she could not look at him.

"I'll get you sooner or later," he muttered, and turned away, yanking a hip flask out and taking a swig as he made his way toward their camp. Belegore stepped forward and looked down on Enguina; her face was so very pale, and her nostrils flared as she breathed through her nose, trying not to retch.

"You need to be careful," he told her firmly. "If you want to stay alive, you best obey them; answer their questions quickly and do exactly what they say." Her eyes fluttered closed and tears formed in them as she lowered her head almost painfully against the ground. She refused to speak to him; he was her captor, kinder to her or no, she was not going to respond. "They were not supposed to hurt you," he muttered, turning away. "I am sorry." He turned and left her alone.

She wanted to groan aloud, to break down into sobs; there were already tears on her face. _Legolas, Legolas…save me, please…rescue me!_ She wanted to be away from here, _now_ …this instant! She did groan then, so softly that it came out more as a whimper, a cry in the back of her throat. Lowering her head, she tried to bring her face to her hands, but that put too much strain on her back. Grimacing, she simply lay still, unable to do much of anything else except mutter under her breath, reaching out to the only one she could seek for help. _Be near to me, Ilúvatar…be near to me and help me! Turn toward me and give me peace…please, please…I beg you, be near._


	25. Chapter 25

The sun was just rearing its head in Minas Tirith, and this morning, Arwen found herself sitting in the hay at Asfaloth's feet with her head resting against the stall, watching her big grey nose around in his feed bucket, looking for more treats. She had been intending to brush him, but she found herself too tired after the long day yesterday, though she could not sleep. She looked down at the brush she had on her hand and found herself staring into the bristles with no apparent thought.

She had tossed and turned for hours, unable to be comfortable in her bed, and the baby had been wild with motion all night. Arwen had been with the people yesterday since the lunch hour after taking a brief rest following the Three Hunters' departure. Éowyn had also been there with her, but she had stayed even later afterwards, learning about them and their families and playing with their children. She thought that being tired would help her sleep. It did not.

What she could not figure out was _why_ she was so anxious that Aragorn was not around. She was worried sick about Enguina, there was no doubt about that. But she had been without Aragorn at her side for many, many years before they had come together again, and then nearly a year before they were wed. Yes, they had been together for almost seven years now and inseparable, but that was no excuse for not being able to find sleep. She knew the baby had kept her awake as well last night, and nothing she had tried worked to calm him. And _breaking down_ yesterday in front of him…oh, how could she forgive herself for _that_? She had made things so much worse. She could only blame it on her constant state of emotional flux. It was hard enough being without him; she tried not to think about it.

After spending the last two hours in the sanctuary of the temple praying, she was certain Ilúvatar was a bit tired of her voice. Enguina had been at the forefront of her prayer, then of course came the Hunters, and her baby, and Enguina, and then her relationship with Legolas, and then…it just went on and on over Annî and Faramir and Éowyn's new babe and then the cycle repeated. She was _tired_ , but finding rest was proving difficult.

A huge _thump_ sounded in front of her and she looked up from the brush. Snorting low and long, Asfaloth turned and met her eyes, shaking his long grey mane and peeling back his lip. He had lowered himself into the hay to lie down, and there was a spot beside him that would be quite perfect for her form.

"You are so thoughtful, Asfaloth," she whispered, and she carefully made her way over to him to lie against his belly. His winter coat had grown in thick and deep grey, the dapples darkening into thick patches; she ran her hand through his furry hair, and then laid her head against it, reaching up to stroke his neck and shoulder. She closed her eyes and laid her head against him and his warmth enveloped her. It was peaceful, and it felt good. For a moment, her worries left her.

* * *

The first thing Enguina knew when she woke from the dreadfully piecemeal sleep she had been having was that she was laying on her side and her head was pounding. She could feel the nasty pieces of rope cutting into her wrists and ankles, and she could hear sounds of quiet snoring. The air was chilly but smelled of pine and chestnut; quite obviously, she was still in the forest of Ithilien and day was dawning. She could hear distinctly four people breathing—everyone was still asleep but her.

She sneaked a peek at her surroundings. By turning her head only slightly each way, she got a quick view and closed her eyes again. Two men and an elf were on bedrolls near the fire; she did not see the third man. The horses were off to her right; if she could just reach them, _very quietly_ , she could get out of here and find her way home…home to Minas Tirith…home to Legolas. She had no idea how long they had been traveling, how many miles, or even where they were. _With my innate sense of direction, I will end up back in the woods of Lothlórien. But I have to try; Ilúvatar! Help me!_

She shuffled around on the ground as quietly as she could, searching for something she could—aha! She cut the edges of her fingers upon a sharp rock, but with them asleep…she _just_ might be able to cut her bonds free. Her chance of success was a tiny bit higher, and though not much, the attempt was still worth it. Working hard, she sliced her hands free in a matter of moments, surprising herself at a quickness and ease she did not expect. Leaning forward, she set to work on her feet with the same rock. It felt good just to have her hands free; her wrists ached as the blood began to flow more readily through her hands. She ignored the pain in her back and shoulders; her ribs roared but she shoved that away as well.

Unsure whether to move quickly or more slowly and silently, she decided that stealth was probably a better plan when another elf was involved. Wrists and ankles cut and bleeding made little difference to her as she crept to the horses, but her head was still swimming. It would have been an easy thing, as she neared the horses, to draw a bow and shoot every last one of them in the gullet, but she had never lifted a weapon in defense or attack, and she was not about to kill four men in cold blood. All that mattered to her at the moment was riding as far away as she could get. Her vision blurred as she reached slowly for the nearest rope that was tied onto the horse's bridle and she had to stop a moment and take a few deep breaths.

She made to free the horse that had been carrying her, and Ahadil's horse snorted, waking up the other horses as well. Even this would have been fine, but Calendur's black seemed to think he was going to be left behind and he whinnied loudly.

" _Stop there!_ " came the shout from the fire, and Ahadil leapt to his feet, drawing his sword. Here was the one whose breath had hissed in her ear, whose dagger had sliced her throat, and who had kicked her in the side. A hot burning anger surged through her and she reached up, pulling the bow from Dagnirhir's saddle.

"You little _bitch_!" cried Dagnirhir from off to her right. _So that is where you were_!

The man appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, reaching for her, and she knew she did not have time to aim the bow—he was too close. Instead, she let out a snarling Elvish curse that would have made her brother proud. As he raced toward her, reaching for her, she grabbed his arm, using his momentum against him and spinning him as if he were not the burly man he was. At the last possible moment, she threw her foot out and he tripped over her, smashing face first into the nearest tree. With a _pop_ and a _crack!_ She heard something break in his face.

 _That was for Hildanir!_ The shout of pain that echoed through the glade gave her a vengeful satisfaction that she did not have the time to savor. Her goal was escape, and as she spun back she yanked an arrow from the quiver on Dagnirhir's saddle. Head spinning, she took aim at Ahadil as he bolted towards her with his sword raised. She let loose an arrow at his shoulder and the man fell without a cry.

A _swoosh_ came to her ears; she recognized the sound as an arrow from another bow. She flipped the stolen bow on its side, desperate to block the arrow she assumed flew from Calendur's bow. The arrow arching for her heart snapped Dagnirhir's bow in two, splitting it down the center. Lunging toward the horse, dropping the bow, she grabbed for the saddle.

She had not known there was a second arrow until the impact of it knocked her clear off her feet and threw her back from the horse and into the snow, pain firing through her ribcage. Dagnirhir's horse, screaming, reared and fell sideways into the other horses, shoving them all over into the trees, and she made a desperate attempt to roll onto her side; pain tore through her and she collapsed back, hardly breathing, her hands now wrapped around the arrow's shaft. Her hands began shaking so badly she could not pull it out. Belegore ran towards the horses as they panicked, trying to soothe them.

Gasping in pain, and trying to stay out of the way of trampling hooves, Enguina tried again to roll but once again, the pain was too great. The arrow had embedded between her ribs and every breath was agony. Her hands were wet and the wound was deep. She heard the snow crunching, but lightly, and she knew it had to be Calendur. She opened her eyes, groaning, and met the elf's as he looked down on her, bow still in hand.

"That was very…very _unwise_ ," he said menacingly, fingering the feathered end of the arrow that protruded from her side. She gasped, tightening her jaw against the pain and tried to breathe lightly. Her eyes were full of hate as she looked at him, not fear. "I never expected a woman like you to have this much… _fight_. I am…impressed," he admitted. "The expectation on this journey was not to hurt you, but…I warned you. I gave you a chance to obey…I warned you that you would be punished severely if you tried to escape again; now, a bit of punishment is in order." He turned his head to look over his right shoulder. "Belegore! See to Ahadil."

"Calendur…" Belegore replied softly, and the elf turned his head completely to look at the man. He shook his head gently, his fingers on the man's throat. "Ahadil is dead."

"Then leave him and see to Dagnirhir," he snapped. "Do not just _stand_ there, Belegore." The younger man quickly moved to the bleeding man; Dagnirhir was still lying at the base of the tree, holding his face.

She had _killed_ someone; tears filled her eyes as she looked up at the elf. "I…I did not mean—"

Her voice cut off suddenly as he reached forward and grabbed the arrow's shaft above her hand. Her features tightened, her teeth clenched, and then he gave her a swift smile. "Death is a part of life, Enguina…and so is _pain_."

With that smile intact, he clamped a hand over her mouth and gave the arrow a _twist_. She screamed in agony, her hands trying to prevent him from turning it as her eyes slammed shut in desperation. Blood spurted between her fingers, and her scream rose to a fever pitch as he twisted it back and yanked the arrow free, slicing fresh wounds into her hands as well. He threw the arrow to the ground next to her as the blood flowed freely over her fingers from the open wound, spilling into the snow. She tried not to gasp for breath, each one sounding like a pained wheeze. He reached down and slapped her maliciously across the face; the pain was so great that tears pooled in her eyes.

"Perhaps I _should_ have Dagnirhir teach you a _real_ lesson," he whispered to her as he leaned over her. "Being assaulted, _violated_ …yes, that would teach you a nice lesson." That very real threat, on top of the pain, was too much. She gasped, her tears spilling over.

" _No…nnno please_ ," she moaned, and she weakly dropped her head back into the snow.

"Belegore," Calendur said, rising and moving away from her, "attend to her. Dagnirhir, get over here and help me pack up. We need to move out as soon as possible. We have lost enough time."

"What of—"

"Belegore, now! Leave Ahadil's body; we gain nothing from its burial, and we will move more quickly without him. Get the girl and get her on that horse." He sneered back at her. "And make sure she is tied up _well_ this time."

Enguina heard crunching in the snow beside her head, and she could hear Dagnirhir muttering about his nose; clearly she had broken it. "Sweet Eru," she heard Belegore muttering, kneeling down beside her in the snow, and he let out a string of curses that at any other time might have made her blush.

"Do not touch me," she whispered, and she tried to turn away, but the pain left her just as she was, unable to turn aside.

"If I do not, you will bleed to death," he said gruffly, tugging her hands away from the wound. She heard him uncap a flask of some kind and pour some of the liquid over the wound. She was suddenly crying out and writhing underneath his hands as he held her arms away from it. "Hold still!" he shouted at her, but she could not; her body moved on its own, trying to get away from the pain. The whiskey assaulted her senses and her vision swam. He got a strip of bandage wrapped around her and tied it tight. "It will do," he grumbled, as he pulled her bloody hands back together, lashing them together with a short rope.

"Belegore, we must go!"

"Coming!" he called back to Calendur. He reached down and tugged her to her feet, half-dragging her to the horse she had been trying to reach only a short while ago. Calendur helped him get her on it. He glared at her, shoving her shoulder. "Sit up," he growled.

Her face was full of pain when she looked down at him, her breathing labored; she was nearly doubled over in the saddle as it was. "I…I cannot..."

In the end, he had to lash her to the saddle this time as she was hardly keeping herself upright. Belegore glared at their leader as he made to mount his own horse.

"You _had_ to—"

"It was necessary. She will be no more trouble."

"See?" Dagnirhir said nasally from beneath his hand. "Told ya we should've taught her a lesson days ago." Belegore mounted and took the rope for Enguina's horse; he could hear Dagnirhir still muttering, "And Ahadil wouldn't be dead right now if you'd just left her to _me_."

"Have you not done enough?" he snapped at the man. "You are only giving her more reason to fight, and she is only going to be _more_ trouble, never mind!" He snorted, tugging her horse into motion.

Every movement of the horse sent a spur of agony through her side, the rope digging into both her wrists and her sides; even her ankles were tied to the stirrups. There was no way she would be able to escape now…and she was not sure she could even if she had not been so strapped down. Right ribs cracked, a terrible wound on her left, shoulder aching, head pounding…yes, she had paid for trying to escape. Tears fell on her face as her head lolled to the left and right, her chin hanging to her chest.

 _Legolas…Legolas…help me, please…_

* * *

Legolas reached up and clenched his hand around his chest, his heart aching, head suddenly pounding. The pain arced through him and he nearly doubled over in the saddle, his heart full of sudden longing. Gasping, dropping a hand onto Brethil's neck to keep himself upright in the saddle, he was glad he was at the back of their party.

There it was again…Enguina's voice talking to his heart, in his head. He knew nothing about such a thing. It was not possible! Had he not known that it had just been something strange he had felt the first time? This was nothing, _nothing_! It _had_ to be nothing! It was not possible!

"Legolas? You all right, elf?" called Gimli back to him, and he waved a hand at him.

They had found the slaughtered Rangers just a bit before they had been forced to camp; Aragorn had said that Enguina had tried to escape again, and he was proud of her. At every turn she was fighting her captors, but…now her voice in his _head_ again… He had just told Gimli he was fine. Sure…he was _fine_. He had no idea what was going on in his head, but he was fine. He had never felt such a thing, such a calling, such a tug on his heart. She was in _pain_ …and was calling for him. It made him angry; it made him terrified; it made him want to ride even harder and faster. Brethil snorted and began to pick up speed, running astride with Lómë as the two of them sought to catch Brego in another few feet.

"You sure you're all right?" Gimli said again. "You look as if you've seen a ghost, lad!"

Legolas shook his head, realizing he still had a hand over his heart. "I…we need to hurry. We have to find her," he called back.

"We are gaining on them," Aragorn exclaimed from up ahead.

Legolas could only hope that he was right.

* * *

"Ho! Ho, Glosbrethil," Legolas called, patting the grey's sweaty neck soothingly. He turned back to where Gimli and Aragorn had stopped. "A man is dead."

"Yes, some sort of battle took place here," agreed Aragorn, and he and Legolas dismounted. Gimli chose to remain on Lómë's back, but he kept a very close watch on the two of them.

Legolas moved close to the body lying in the snow, shaking his head. "He has been shot with an arrow through the neck." Aragorn leaned down near the man, examining his features.

"He has not been dead four hours." Legolas moved away and spotted the supplies. He began to rifle through them. "They left many of their supplies," he said softly. "They were trying to travel light."

Aragorn frowned at the dead man. "This must be Ahadil; the man matches Hildanir's description of the one who held the knife on Enguina in the stable. They must have camped here; though why they killed one of their own…" he shook his head, "I cannot guess." He moved about as Legolas rummaged through what they had left behind. There were flat spaces in the snow around a burned out campfire where bedrolls had been laid out, though one bedroll remained—that of the dead man. He crouched down by them, and he could tell by the imprints where the other two men and the elf had slept. He rose and looked about again. A few feet away, there lay a rope covered with blood near a sharp stone covered with the same. He felt the imprint of space left behind—the light press on the grass… _Enguina._

"Enguina lay here," he said softly, touching the snow.

"What?" Legolas said suddenly, and even Gimli moved Lómë closer so that he could see what Aragorn was talking about.

"She lay here, dragged here…and she set herself free. She tried to escape," the man said, rising, staring at the snow. "And…"

Following where her gentle footsteps had fallen and where the horse droppings were, he was able to piece together a bit of what may have happened. Against the tree that was nearest where the horses had been, he found blood and at the base of it, the imprint of a large man, probably Dagnirhir then. Aragorn looked about on the ground, following his footsteps, and then he found a broken bow. He went to it and picked it up, seeing that it was snapped in half and there was an arrow protruding just to the left of the crack. He looked towards the dead man—he had been shot from this spot, and with fair aim. If the man had died at that instant, he could not have fired a return shot with a bow and none had been near the body. Someone else had made the shot, breaking the bow in the hand of the dead man's shooter.

Legolas watched him, as transfixed as he had been when Aragorn had trailed the hobbits into Fangorn forest. Gimli looked as if he was proud of the work his friend carried out. Aragorn looked a little further nearer the tree, and it only took him a moment to find the blood sprays staining the snow and an arrow nearby. It would not even take a guess for him to assume who might have fallen here; obviously, the one who held the broken bow. He ran his hands over the spot, feeling the length of it and its impressions. He took a handful of grass from beneath the snow and brought it to his nose. He was sure.

"Aragorn, you are _killing_ me," Legolas begged, coming to his side. As the man turned, his eyes caught the bloodstain upon the snow. "Ilúvatar," he whispered, and Aragorn held the grass out to him. He did not even have to get close to it as the wind carried the scent of Enguina to him. "Enguina…" he whispered, and Aragorn nodded.

"She's not dead!" cried Gimli, seeing the blood for himself from astride Lómë.

"No, but she is sorely wounded. She lay over there, tied up by hand and foot to the tree as the three men and an elf slept nearby in that circle, probably hoping to rest for an hour. They did not intend for her to wake. She did, and cut her own bonds on a sharp rock. She came here, to take a horse and escape into the woods." He hefted the bow and nodded to the trees. "The horses were tied here and she took this bow from the saddle on the nearest one. There is blood on that tree behind you, Legolas. My guess is that Enguina forced Dagnirhir into it; the body was too big to be Belegore. She then fired an arrow at Ahadil.

"The Elven man stood right over there and fired two arrows at Enguina. I say Elven because there are barely prints in the snow, and he knew just where to hit her. She raised the bow like this," he said, demonstrating, "blocking the first one—the bow snapped, rendering her incapable of deflecting the next shot." He turned and looked back at the stain of blood on the ground.

"She was hit by the second?" asked Gimli.

"She fell here," Aragorn said softly, and he knelt down. "He hit her in the side, and the other sets of prints here indicate either a man or the elf took the arrow out, and pulled her to her feet. She is not dead." He sighed. "But we must hurry…a wound like this…" he did not finish, and Legolas's stomach churned. "We are only hours behind them."

"They will wish they had never been born," Legolas said smoothly, his voice deathly quiet. No one questioned him. He turned and stalked back to Glosbrethil.

Gimli looked to Ahadil. "He was a soldier of Gondor, like the others. Should we bury the dead?"

"On the return journey," Aragorn replied, shaking his head. "If there was time, I would spare it, but we do not have it." He swallowed. "Even less now than we did when we found the Rangers."

Those words struck fear into Legolas's heart; Enguina was in grave danger.

* * *

"Good evening, my Lady." Arwen heard Faramir's voice as he entered into the House. The night had been long without their company. Éowyn had not been feeling well and had stayed at home with Annî; Arwen had forced Faramir to remain with her, but he could not go to sleep without checking on the Queen. He came into the sitting room's doorway and leaned against it. She smiled up at him as she looked up from her chair by the fire. "Is there anything I can do for you tonight? You seem so quiet in here—"

Arwen laughed. "Stop that, Faramir!" she chided. "Do not be so formal." Faramir blushed and smiled as he came towards her and took a seat in one of the chairs. "How is Éowyn feeling?"

"Oh, she is better," Faramir replied and then smiled. "She is putting Annî down to sleep as we speak. I will be back in just enough time for a silly story about a horse and a fox and a hound." He laughed and she smiled. He tilted his head at her. "You look lovely tonight, Arwen. Not that there is a moment in which you are unlovely, but there is something about you tonight that seems to fill you." He shook his head, a bit embarrassed. "I cannot explain myself."

She held up what she had been sewing moments before he entered. It was a small garment for sleep for a young child. "It is for our child when she, or he, is born. But thank you; that is very kind of you to say."

"Well, you do look lovely, and that gown looks very nice. I wish you could teach Éowyn to sew as well!" he joked, and she raised her eyebrows.

"You shall be in _so_ much trouble when I tell her that you said such a thing!"

Faramir's eyes widened. "You would not tell her! You like me more than _that_ , do you not?" She raised an eyebrow at him, and he swallowed. "Arwen?"

She laughed suddenly and reached out to cover his hand with her own. "Dear Faramir, although it would be very amusing to watch Éowyn sort you out, I think I _will_ keep that one to myself." He grinned at her and then nodded toward the window.

"Before I entered, you were watching outside. Anything of interest?"

She slowly shook her head. "No, indeed, there is not."

He sighed softly, and then squeezed her hand. "He will return soon, Arwen. You need not worry for his safety…or for Enguina."

"I…" she shook her head, "I do not know _what_ is bothering me. I have been finding it difficult to sleep these past two evenings. I _am_ worried that Enguina has been sorely hurt, and I am worried for the Three Hunters, but that would not keep me up at night." She frowned. "Something else draws near...I can feel something changing."

"I assure you that they will find her and return her to us safely and more likely even sooner than we think or know. Legolas believed it would be within the week, and that is an encouraging thought. They have fast horses that are willing to run…and Aragorn has a reason to make a very speedy return," he said with a smile, "for what man can deny their child or the mother of such a child? Certainly not Aragorn!" he laughed and exclaimed, "Look what he did to mine! He let her hold on to his hair and now she continues to grab my own! It drives me _mad_! I shall become bald before my time!"

Arwen laughed with him, but she was thinking of what Aragorn had told her while she had been holding onto his hair. "I am sure he did not mean to _teach_ this motion to your child, Faramir, though I was under the impression that she had been doing it previous to the party. Besides, Éowyn shall still love you…even if you are bald."

He looked at her very seriously. " _Please_ do not mention that to her," he cried, rolling his eyes, "or I shall never hear the end of it! She shall be teasing me for ages that my daughter wishes me to be bald! I assure you that the _scoundrel_ in Aragorn meant it."

"The _scoundrel_ in Aragorn?" she quoted him, laughing. "As if there _was_ such a thing!"

"No, I speak the truth!" he cried. "See, after your wedding, we had discussed what would happen if we ever had children and all the bad things he said that he would do to mine to irritate me. I regret to inform you that _this_ was on his list. When he returns, I am going to kill him myself."

"I had no idea any such thing was going on at our wedding! Aragorn has never spoken of this to me, but that is fairly amusing."

"Amusing to whom?" he questioned and then laughed himself. "Well, I suppose Aragorn and I are even in any case. He probably never told you of all the nasty things I told him that I would teach your child as well." They both laughed.

"How was Annî today? Did Éowyn keep her busy even while resting?"

"Annî is so very _alive_ ; I can tell you that," he smiled.

"Please, do not let me hinder you; return to your family, Faramir, and give my love to all three of them." She released his hand.

"You sure you have no need for anything?"

"I am very sure, Faramir, but I thank you."

"Then I shall return to my wife." He blushed a little. "I did not want you to be lonely. Surely it must be somewhat lonely to be seated here without a friend."

She smiled at him. "You are so very thoughtful, Faramir, and Éowyn is lucky to have you." The man blushed a little more.

"Indeed, thank you…so she tells me often."

"And well she should. I bid you go to her now," she laughed. "Good night!" He rose, bowed to her, and kissed her hand.

"Sleep well, Arwen; I pray you will have sweet dreams. Aragorn will return soon, and all will be well again. Good night."

"Good night, Faramir," she replied, and in another moment she heard the door shut, and he was gone.

Arwen sighed softly, returning her eyes to the window and laying her head against the back of the chair. She knew in her heart that Aragorn was safe, but that did not mean she would stop worrying about him. He would be gone almost three days tomorrow and they were bound to catch the attackers soon. They would all return safe and uninjured, and she would race out to hold him in her arms and tell him once again how much she loved him.

She smiled at that thought. At any given moment she could conceive a picture of him in her mind that would touch down to her soul. The tenderness in the touch of his hand, the strength in his arms when they wrapped around her, the peace in his face as he looked on the sunset, and the passion in his eyes as they made love. His simple smile was like a hug to her heart, and she smiled at the images that came to her; they warmed her spirit.

She yawned, and then decided she might as well try to go to sleep. Intending to change her clothes, she stood and moved into the other room to gather her things for bed. As she glanced over at the bed, she could almost see him there waiting for her, and she nearly laughed at her imagination. Instead, she dressed into her nightgown. Lifting Hadhafang from the bed, she placed the sword against the wall within arm's reach; Aragorn had warned her to be careful, so she was doing what he asked. She lay down on the bed and placed the sheet over her, hoping that tonight would be filled with pleasant dreams of her beloved.

She laid a hand over her womb, closing her eyes and feeling the baby begin to move within her. Shaking her head, she sighed. It might turn out to be another restless night.

* * *

The journey was becoming increasingly difficult as they continued across the plain and sparse woodlands, pushing their unwilling horses to run even faster. There was no stopping Calendur; the horses were tripping in their exhaustion. Dagnirhir's pain had vanished, but his horse was sluggish and irritated by the rough riding; Belegore's horse was tired of dragging the horse behind it that tripped every few steps. They had ridden all day and through most of the night as it had been clear, but the horses were giving their last. It was about three hours from dawn.

Enguina, mounted on the angry beast that walked behind Belegore, had never known such agony. Her hands were still tied at the wrist in front of her and the rope cut into the deep slices that were already present there from hours of being in the saddle. The wound in her side had begun to bleed again over an hour ago, and she found it difficult to breathe; every step from the horse was pure torment. Each jolt of his stride cut so sharply into her side that she needed to gasp for air. Pain flowed through her, into her back and down into her stomach. She was _freezing_ , and she had not been cold in her entire life. Never feeling this way, she did not know what was happening, what was coming over her. She could not lift her aching head, and everything ached.

She _wished_ …she prayed for a miracle. She prayed, right at that moment, that the touch of Legolas' arms would surround her, that all would be well. In her mind's eye, she could see him riding hard and fast, searching for her. She could almost hear his voice in her head, whispering words of love. That he was coming…he was coming for her.

It had been nearly a day since her injury and though her pain was terrible, the illness she knew nothing about was worse. She had never felt so badly all her life, and she was beginning to lose her senses. There were moments she could not hear what the men said to each other as she drifted in and out of consciousness, and her eyesight had lessened; things would grow dark and then return to normal. She tried desperately to ignore the agony she was feeling, but as they were moving through another heavily forested area, she was at the point where she could no longer sit upon the horse without a major effort of strength, strength she knew she no longer had.

Sweat poured from her brow, and the heat in her head had risen to the point where she could no longer fight it…and she did not wish to. She wanted more than anything to get off of the horse and lie down. The pain in her side, back, and stomach was constant, and her tunic was slick with blood for the cloth was no longer able to contain it. Her eyes were tightly closed while her breath came in short gasps that could not be heard over the thumping of the horse's hooves in the soft dirt. Her body's defenses had failed…and she was losing the battle within herself. Her strength and will to fight had broken.

Her horse stepped over a branch and tripped, going down onto his front knees and towing the rope nearly out of Belegore's hand and dragging his horse to a halt. The horse righted himself, but Enguina could not keep her balance; she hung, half out of the saddle by her ankles and wrists, her body falling to the side painfully, every muscle yanking. She was still, hanging off the left side of the horse who stood still, the saddle uncomfortably pulling to the left.

"Ho!" said Belegore, yanking back on the reins of his horse, and the stallion tossed his head at the sharp tug. Belegore whispered a short sorry, and the horse stopped willingly, dropping his head almost to the ground. The man leapt from his back and the horse stood exactly where he had stopped, grateful for the rest, and he hurried back to her, drawing out his knife. Not one of them had been paying her any mind; they had not even stopped to eat or rest themselves. Belegore cursed as he righted her swiftly, and began cutting her loose. Moving to her right side, he cut that rope, too, and the one holding her hands, dropping the knife as she came at him, she fell off the horse and into his arms. He lowered her quickly to the ground, noticing how labored her breathing was and slow. Her whole body was trembling, and her face was beaded with sweat. He cursed again, touching her forehead. She was very ill, and he had not even noticed for his own weariness. The moonlight glistened off her face. He looked up when Calendur's horse moved up next to him, the horse's head hanging low as the elf scowled down at them both.

"Get her up," he stated, sitting tall and not fatigued in the saddle of a beast which needed great rest. Belegore met his gaze unflinchingly.

"She is deathly ill, and pale," he stated, shaking his head. "She can go no further."

"Belegore, we are traveling now. Get her back in the saddle."

"No," he said firmly, "I will _not_ , Calendur. The horses are exhausted and will not take another step without resting. We should camp here and take some sleep while we still can. They are not so close that we cannot rest for the night…we have traveled far and in great haste. The wound you inflicted on her is taking its toll; we must rest here."

"Forget the horses," added Dagnirhir, " _we're_ tired." He was not only physically tired; he was also tired of _running_. Dagnirhir did not run from battle, he yearned for it. He would gladly stop running for a chance that the King might catch them. He wanted to meet him in battle.

Calendur looked to the south, the way they had come…he heard nothing that would indicate that riders were near, though he did not know how soon they had been sent out or when they had been discovered. Belegore was right, no matter how much he did not wish to admit it. The horses were weary and would refuse to carry them farther now that they had stopped. He did not reply, but he did dismount.

In moments, camp was set, and as the moon drew overhead Calendur lay down to rest. Dagnirhir was drinking from his last flask near the fire, singing in a drunken stupor to himself. Belegore gave him a disgusted look, but envied Calendur's ability to block out all noise so that he would sleep fully. Belegore darkly promised himself that if he could not sleep because of the man's singing, he would not hesitate to seriously punish him. He smiled grimly to himself; yes, he was in a _foul_ mood tonight.

He took the water he had heated over the fire and moved slowly to the wounded elf who now lay shivering on the outside of their camp. Calendur had staked her tied hands to the ground above her head so that she could not move even if she had the strength, and he had gagged her so she could not make noise. Her eyes were tightly closed, but she was clearly not asleep as she kept twitching; he doubted the fever would allow her. Her senses so diminished, she did not hear him approach or kneel down beside her.

He reached forward and as he began undoing the buttons on the tunic she wore, her eyes sliced open. The pain drained from her face and terror came to her eyes. She tried to pull away, desperately, and though he saw pure suffering rake through her gaze, she did not stop trying to get away from him. He pulled his hand back and held them up for her to see as sweat burned her eyes.

"I am not going to harm you, Enguina," he said, using her name for the first time on the journey. "I need to see the wound; you are very ill."

She could not possibly keep up the strength required to stay focused on him, and he watched her eyes roll back into her head. If he was not going to harm her, than she was done. Her breathing harsh and painful, she closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the snow, losing more strength by the moment. He assumed she knew that she did not have much choice and that at the moment it probably did not matter to her what he did. The last few buttons of the bloodied tunic undone, he untied and removed the blood-soaked bandage. His eyes fell on the wound and he grimaced for it was as bad as he had feared. It was already grotesquely infected, which accounted for the illness she was suffering.

"How did this get so awful so quickly?" Belegore muttered, shaking his head. He was no healer by any means. Soaking the cleanest rag he had in the hot water, he brought it close to her. "This is going to hurt," he whispered, "but there is nothing else I know to do for you." Carefully, he began to wash the wound, but no amount of carefulness would have taken away the pain of what he was doing. She whimpered, biting down hard on the cloth Calendur had wrapped tightly across her mouth. She passed out and regained consciousness several times as he worked, her fingers digging into the soft earth beneath her hands. Tears of agony rolled down her face, and she tried not to feel the cold as it pressed in all around her. Her head felt so hot, but her limbs were freezing. Her breathing was ragged as he replaced the bandage with a new one, and re-buttoned the tunic.

"I cannot do more for you," he said softly, taking pity on her.

He was grieved, and it struck him as he watched the tears form in her eyes and fall that she was a victim, totally undeserving of any punishment. Guilt filled his heart as he saw what they had done—what _he_ had done—and he thought of the woman that they _intended_ to inflict pain on…how much more would there be for her? The elf before him was not even supposed to have been injured; she was a _diversion_! The unfairness of the situation came down upon him at once; what had they done to deserve such pain? What had the King done? He had restored life to Gondor; had saved them all from death in Mordor, and now he was to lose all he had won. And what of the Queen? The first time he had seen her, she was giving flowers to a little child, filled with laughter. What of the night near the wall, when she had smiled so kindly and had held the King's arm so lovingly? And then at the celebration when she had spun about the dance-floor with his own grandfather. She had only ever sought to heal the people, to help them. And this woman, the elf who lay now in front of him, probably dying, what had _she_ done? Why did _she_ not deserve happiness?

Overwhelming shame tore at his heart. Who was _he_ to take this away from her, from any of them? What sort of anger was in his heart to be so evil, so full of malice and hatred to those who more than anyone deserved to have a good life? What right did he have to take these things away from them? And it was even worse than he had feared!

He remembered the words in the stable that the King had spoken to him that morning. He remembered the look in the man's eyes as he told of the horrors he had seen. He knew that he had tried to block those words out, but as he had seen the terror in Enguina's eyes and her great pain, he knew that the words were truth indeed; that it _was_ his duty, as Aragorn had said, to protect the innocent and take care of those who could not do so themselves. This elf…she was a victim…and he had helped them. _Helped them!_

Belegore stood. He could not be beside her anymore, to feel the guilt. He walked to the camp and tossed himself down upon his bedroll, rolling over and wrapping his arms across his chest. He had done wrong…he had done a _grievous_ wrong. The only thing worse than what he had done would be to kill either of them or the child himself.

There would never be a way to set it right.

* * *

Enguina tried to relieve the pressure on her torn shoulder by tugging herself towards the knife that held her to the ground, but she had never felt so weak. She could not even lift her head; she coughed hard. She had never been cold before, yet she was freezing, her body shaking so bad she could barely control herself. Her physical pain was inconceivable, and she cried out in her heart, over and over for Legolas to rescue her. Oh, if he could hear her or the words that she cried to him! She wrapped his love around her like a shield from the cold, but she could not even wrap her arms around herself.

She was in despair and she was desperate. She had never felt such agony; she wanted to go _home_ …she was freezing, wet, miserable. There was not a bit of kindness anywhere to be found, except in Belegore. He, at least, had tried to see to her wound and he had defended her even when there had been no need. She wondered how long he would continue to protect her before—

There was crunching in the snow very near to her head, and she weakly forced her eyes to open, expecting to see Belegore, come back again. She had no idea how long it had been since he had left her _._ It was _not_ Belegore _._

"Well, well, lovely lady…it's just you and me now."

Enguina _screamed_ in her head. Immediately, she tried to back away, tried to wrench herself away from his searching hands but she was too weak and in too much pain. Dagnirhir had sneaked to her side; now they were alone. She whimpered; her eyes flooded with terror as he leered at her.

"Now, _that's_ proper respect," he said to her, grinning like a madman, "A bit of fear is good for a woman, healthy, even." He reached down, laying one hand directly on her breast as she tried to writhe away, and the other on her face. Her sides were heaving in fear and pain, and she squealed through the gag, desperate for freedom. Dagnirhir slapped her hard across the face, and she grunted with the impact—he hit so _hard_.

"I like it when they scream," he said with a laugh, leaning over her body and drawing close to her cheek. His hand squeezed tight, causing her to wince, and then it wandered over from her breast towards the center of her chest. _Please, Ilúvatar, please is there no mercy?_ Her eyes were wide with dread, her whole body shaking beneath him. His fingers began to split open the buttons on her tunic in quick succession, exposing her chest to the freezing air. Terror swept over her; she tried to scream again but no sound came out of her throat.

"Looks like Ahadil cracked a few ribs when his foot found you," he muttered, running his fingers across the bruising on her skin even as she tried again to tug away. Her breath squeaked out of her lungs when his hand found her breast; skin-to-skin, her stomach churned and she tried to call for Belegore through the gag. This time, he back-handed her, bruising her face even more than it had been.

"It feels _good_ when you scream," he teased her, "gives me a rise. But you've got to be _quiet_ now, lovely. You need a lesson in proper respect for a man, and I'm going to give it to you." He reached down to undo his belt and she threw every last ounce of her strength into kicking him in the shoulder, her wound blazing with agony. He caught her knee and laughed at her feeble attempt before shoving it aside and pressing his fingers into the junction between her thighs. She squealed, so sick she was going to be violently ill, trying to thrash but unable to get any leverage, his fingers pushing against her.

"Still some fight, huh?" he laughed, and he drew back a fist and slammed it down square between her breasts, causing her to cough and choke into the gag. "You're _my_ bitch now; I'll show you what happens when you struggle!" She did not even have time to catch her breath before he had yanked off his belt and reared it back in his fist, aiming for sensitive skin. He snapped it down hard across her stomach, raising a welt almost immediately as she screamed into the gag.

"I said _quiet_. Do as I say!" he snarled, furious as he brought down the belt against her chest and across her left breast, while his fingers _hurt_ —when he was suddenly yanked backward away from her. The agony of the strike, her fear about what had been about to happen, spun her stomach.

" _You son of a whore!_ " shouted Belegore, beginning to pummel him in the face with his fists. "You _bastard!_ What the _hell_ did you think!? Get away from her! _Get away_!" The younger man was hitting any area he could reach as Dagnirhir scrambled back from him; Belegore kicked him in the ass as he crawled away, and he whirled about towards Enguina.

She was vomiting; he could tell by the way her stomach was moving. Quickly, before she choked to death, he drew his dagger, reached down quickly, and sliced the gag from her mouth. His hands were shaking so badly from his fury that he cut her cheek slicing the soaked gag from her mouth. He yanked the dagger out of the ground that had pinned her hands and turned her on her side in the snow. She was still heaving; but before he could do anything else, he heard a sound behind him.

He whirled again, this time, back towards Dagnirhir who was running at him from two paces away, his face _furiously_ angry. Belegore sheathed the dagger and slugged the bigger man square in the center of his face, snapping his nose for sure. Screaming, Dagnirhir went down to one knee, where Belegore hit him in the side of the head. " _How do you like it!?_ " he roared and the man fell back from him, dragging himself backwards and away from Belegore.

"What in the name of Morgoth are you two yelling about?" Calendur cried, leaping to his feet near the fire. "I thought someone was attacking us!"

"Belegore attacked _me_!" cried Dagnirhir, holding his face. No patience left and snarling like a dozen ravenous wolves, Belegore launched himself at the big man, cuffing him round the head three, even four times before Dagnirhir punched him in the gut and shoved him back. Calendur shot to his feet and finally separated both of them, shoving Dagnirhir toward the fire where he stumbled and fell onto his mat; the elf held out a hand toward Belegore who had his hand in the air, pointing at him.

"He was going to _violate_ her!" Belegore spat, his eyes sharp as daggers. "Right _here_! Right here on the _ground, that filthy animal_!" Calendur turned and kicked Dagnirhir himself.

"Stop thinking with your manhood!" he hissed.

"I will _kill_ him!" Belegore continued to snarl. "If he touches her again, I will break him in a hundred places, tie his carcass to a horse, and _drag_ him to the mountain of fire _myself_ and throw him into it!"

"Enough bickering!" Calendur shouted, equally angry, turning to Dagnirhir. "If you try one more time," he snapped, "I will cut your manhood from you _myself_! Do I make myself clear?" The drunk man had no choice but he nod. "Go to sleep, you _huan_." The elf turned back and saw Belegore breathing hard, anger clear on his face. "And _you_ , enough brawling; get back to sleep! We only need to rest the horses another few hours and we can be on our way. We are almost to the place where I planned to abandon her, and they will be catching up soon. We should be far enough ahead of them for another half-a-day or so, and when they find her, they shall be so busy they will not have time to hunt us."

Calendur readied his blankets as Belegore stared at him in surprise; he lay back down after being sure Dagnirhir was nearly out cold already. The younger man appeared confused. "A… _abandon_ her?"

"What? Did you think we were going to allow them to catch us with the woman? No!" he replied, laughing. "No, they will find her, and we will have escaped them. They will never suspect a thing; now, get some sleep."

Belegore stared at him as he rolled over; Dagnirhir stayed right where he fell. Collecting himself and flexing his fingers lest they remain in fists the rest of the evening, Belegore headed back over to Enguina whose body was shaking so hard with terror that he was stricken with grief, tears pouring down her face, her forehead pressed to the ground. She could not even turn herself over.

Kneeling down, he reached out and took one of her shoulders in his hand, eager to move her away from where she had been heaving. Enguina flinched so hard and so suddenly that her stomach muscles clenched again, though there was nothing left in her stomach to get rid of.

"It is Belegore," he said, and he did tug her back then, where he could wipe off her mouth and face. "I will kill him," he muttered to himself as he carefully buttoned her tunic over the bruises and welts now forming on the front of her body. " _I will kill him if he touches you again_." He shook his head, touching his fingers to her forehead even as she flinched away again. "I swear I will not hurt you, just let me…" His hand finally reached her forehead and he muttered, "God, you are burning up…and freezing." Yanking off his cloak, he bundled it around her. "It is not much, but it will be better than the cold." He frowned at her, looking at the way her eyes tightly shut, the way she was shaking; mostly from fear, but not all—she was _so sick_. If she made it longer than another day, he would be shocked.

Dagnirhir's very actions made him sick. He knew that the man was disgusting, but now every bit of him _loathed_ the man. He could not convince himself to go and lay back down by the fire. No…he would have to stay awake and make certain he did not touch her, and that she did not run off into the dark. He shook his head at his own thoughts; that was not even possible now. But…what _was_ possible was waking in the morning and finding they were surrounded by soldiers. At this point, he did not care what happened to him; she did not deserve to die like this. Calendur had never told him of the plan to abandon her out here in the Wilds of Mordor; what if there was no confrontation with the King after all? After that explosion, was it possible that they had not even come for her? Was there _any_ way, any way at all that she might be saved from this nightmare?

* * *

Faramir woke with a start, the nightmare pouring out of his mind as quickly as it had entered. He did not remember most of it now, but he rolled over in bed, reaching over to wrap his arm more tightly around his wife. He _hated_ dreams, even good ones; he always felt they had a hidden message for him. Resting his head against hers, he thought about the last time he had spoken with Aragorn, how he had warned him the mission to rescue Enguina was a trap. He had been dreading that he had been right, and now, he had a dream about it. _Typical_.

It was that moment in which all hell suddenly broke loose. The warning bell began clanging and there were shouts and yells of pain from outside the house. Annî began screaming from the other room, and he and Éowyn launched themselves from the bed just as the shouting outside grew louder and there was pounding upon the door.

"Elf! _Mommy_!" screamed Annî, crying and pointing at the window as Éowyn gathered her up into her arms. She gripped Éowyn around the neck as she clutched her, trying to soothe her and stare wildly out the window at the same time. There was nothing there.

"Shh, shh, little lamb," she whispered.

" _Prince Faramir_!" The cries from outside were heard again, and Faramir only stopped long enough for Éowyn to follow him out into the hall as he fumbled with his sword belt. Snatching his quiver and bow from the front room, he raced towards the door.

"Prince Faramir! _My Lord_!" Reaching the front door within a matter of seconds, he yanked it open, nearly pulling it from its hinges. "There are…men! Men…in the…in the garden and in the Citadel!" The poor man was completely out of breath, but Faramir grabbed his shoulder.

"Men? What—" Faramir began, but Éowyn's scream caught him off guard and he reacted, shoving the guard aside as he brought his bow up, firing an arrow into the throat of a stranger with a bow behind the man. "Go!" he shouted to the guard, stepping out the front door and aiming his longbow about. "Stay inside!" His words were to Éowyn as he threw himself down off the porch, whirling about and taking aim at another lithe figure running across the roof of his own house. Annî was screaming at the top of her lungs, just adding more to the chaos as the figure dropped to the ground before Faramir. He snatched his sword off his belt and plunged it into the attacker's chest, making certain he was dead.

His face was all astonishment when he saw _who_ the attacker was. "An _elf?_ " he said, and he bent down. " _An elf_?" he exclaimed.

"Elf!" Annî screamed, and Faramir realized what she had seen out her window.

"Faramir!" Éowyn yelled, and he had no time to react. Switching Annî to her left arm, she snatched the frozen guard's dagger from its sheath and whipped it into another attacker's throat. Covering Annî's face at the spray of blood, she raced off the front porch to her husband, who stood staring down at the man Éowyn had just killed. If she had been a second later, he would have been headless. The guard was at her heels.

"I _told_ you to stay in the house," he said, and then grabbed her arm, dragging her to him as he kissed her roughly on the mouth. He pulled back and drew another arrow. "I love you, but stay with Annî now. Get inside. You, come with me," he said to the guard and he kissed Annî on the forehead, even as she was crying.

Éowyn wanted, more than anything, to fight at his side…but she had not one but _two_ little ones who needed her. She backed onto the porch as she watched Faramir race toward the courtyard, where several figures with bows could be seen.

War had returned to Minas Tirith.


	26. Chapter 26

_No one attacks my City, my Lord's City, and lives…not even elves._

Drawing back arrow after arrow, he loosed them towards the walls, several guards following his example. He continued, with deadly accuracy, to draw and fire. He had no idea who these men were, why they were here. All he knew was that there was evil intent; several of his soldiers lay dead in the courtyard before Ecthelion felled by Elvish arrows.

The battle continued for mere minutes; this was a small party, but they had done much damage. Faramir stood staring at the slain in the garden and within the courtyard. What in all of Middle-Earth had happened here? Where had these elves come from? Why were they here?

"My Lord Faramir," said Captain Mennev, jogging to his side, "what madness is this?"

Faramir shook his head in disbelief, leaning down to turn over the nearest elf. "I am shocked, grieved," he said, "I do not know _what_ to think." He lifted his face back to Mennev. "Gather the guard; have the City searched. If there are any more I want them caught and killed." He stood, his eyes dark. "No one will wound our City and live."

"Yes, my Lord," Mennev replied, pride on his face. He hit his chest with his fist and turned about, shouting to the guards. Several guards remained behind, looking for the wounded. Faramir noticed Éowyn coming towards him, now girded with her sword, Annî still in her arms. He shook his head; she simply could not remain behind. She stopped at the edge of the courtyard, her eyes as well as his taking in the dead. He could read the words on her lips; he knew she was just as shocked as him.

"Lord Faramir! He's still alive!" called one of the guards, and Faramir raced over, turning the elf onto his back, his face smeared with blood. It was clear the elf was dying, but looking into his face, Faramir could see the features of Mirkwood. Legolas's kin?

"Who _are_ you?" Faramir snapped, gripping the elf's tunic. " _Speak!_ What were you doing here?"

The elf let out a choking laugh and then smiled as Faramir dragged him close. " _Death_ …" he strangled out, " _death to the Queen…_ " His head fell back and his eyes unfocused. Faramir's eyes widened in terror and he dropped the elf back to the stone.

"Arwen!" he shouted, and he began running toward the King's House as if an entire army was on his heels. The guards who were near him and Éowyn, all who had heard the elf's words, followed at once behind him.

Yet another diversion; the real danger was within.

* * *

The two guards outside of the King's House stood silently as if they were stone. They had been placed there for the last few days, and they were happy to have night duty in such a quiet place, for they knew that none would attempt to pass them at this time in the evening. They were well armed and looked very fierce in their bright armor. Both men had served Gondor well during the time of the War of the Ring and were experienced in battle.

In the shadows near the wall of Legolas and Gimli's home appeared an elf clad in dark green clothes, and a cloak that seemed to blend with the very walls by which he stood. Both men thought at once that Legolas must have returned and was coming to speak with the Queen, and they visibly relaxed. A yell from off toward the courtyard startled both of them, and as the elf drew slightly nearer, they suddenly realized that there were many differences between this elf and Legolas. It only took a split second for them to realize it was definitely _not_ Legolas when the elf drew his bow. Without time to even draw their swords in defense, both guards went down with a clang, arrows protruding from their unprotected necks. The elf stepped over their bodies and headed towards the now unguarded door with a pleased smile.

Lying in bed, Arwen was only half-asleep when she heard the sudden yell herself. Sitting upright, her sharp hearing caught the sound of arrows outside and the clanging of armor. The guards were down, and whoever was out there was coming in _here._ Sweeping her feet off the bed and throwing herself upright, she snatched Hadhafang from its resting place against the wall and tossed the sheath on the rumpled sheets.

Swiftly and stealthily, she moved against the wall near the doorway of their room, poised and ready to strike. She heard the door open quietly; was this person so much a fool that they thought she would still be asleep? Whatever was going on in the courtyard, whoever had attacked Minas Tirith, the battle was raging near Ecthelion; she could hear cries of pain and the firing of arrows. It made anger blaze in her heart; the fire had been enough. These people were going to _die_ for what they had done to her City, her people…but she dropped hand to her womb.

 _Oh, Ilúvatar…protect us!_

She was surprised to hear light footsteps within the next room, and knew it must be an elf—an elf? She had not the time to figure out the answer to such a question; the moment of attack was upon her. She spun around the corner and brought Hadhafang down swiftly, slicing a long gash down the elf's chest and tearing open the front of his tunic; if he had been half-a-second slower, he would already be dead. His sword came up just in time to bat Hadhafang away from stabbing straight through him. She drove him back as they battled across the sitting room, chairs were spun out of their way. His face strangely reminded her of Legolas and yet not so. He had certainly been an elf of Thranduil's people from Eryn Lasgalen, for his features were dark but his hair was light.

The fierce anger in his eyes caught her completely off guard; was there something personal he held against her, or was it just that he was being defeated by her that was infuriating him? She sliced Hadhafang sideways and slit his arm from shoulder to elbow. The elf hissed with pain and backed away, glowering at her with furious eyes. She looked at him silently, breathing hard. She had not fought like this for far too long, and no matter how much she made time to practice, their skills were closely matched.

He joined back into the fray and, if it was possible, looked even more furious than before. She was tiring now, and she feared for the child; _someone_ must come to help her, _someone_ must know she needed aid. He slammed his sword against hers, time and time again, and her grip held—just barely—each time. Her wrist and arm ached, her stomach flitted with fear, and her heart pounded in her chest. He hit her sword blade up and she spun away.

Everything happened so fast in the next few moments that she would never be able to remember exactly what had taken place. The elf crashed his sword against hers, and her hand gave out, the sword skidding across the wood floor. He dropped his sword and brought his arm up against her neck, driving her back into the wall with all of his might. Her head hit so hard that her vision blacked out and she choked, her throat constricting as he held her tight.

She thrashed blindly, yanking a hand up to protect the child and the other to tear at his face. Her nails caught in his skin and he screamed; the babe in her womb was tumbling about inside her against her ribs, her stomach, her pelvis. She brought her knee up into him and she felt his breath _whoosh_ out across her face, but still, his arm across her throat did not let up. Her chest was heaving; she was desperate for air. Her hand scratched along his side and found a dagger. Drawing it, she stabbed it into his side, twisting it hard. Shrieking in pain, his other hand shot forward, catching her in the chest and forcing the rest of the air out of her lungs. She was strangling; her hand dropped from the dagger in his side and she began to lose consciousness, her head spinning slowly on her shoulders.

He knew he was about to die, and he needed to act quickly; releasing her throat and reaching up, he caught her jaw in his hand, yanking her mouth open and pouring some foul liquid into it. She gagged, barely conscious as he held her mouth closed around the liquid, but he stroked her throat hard, causing her to swallow. Quickly, he caught her nose and mouth and prevented her from taking a breath, shoving the bottle deep into his cloak. She collapsed then, and he let her, dropping her to her knees and letting her fall to her side.

He heard the pounding footsteps through the open doorway too late, but it was too late for him anyway. Faramir's bow was out and ready, and he fired an arrow through the elf's heart, the body dropping onto Arwen's.

Faramir rushed to Arwen's side, dropping his bow and shoving the elf from her. Éowyn was close behind him, followed by three more guards. " _Arwen!_ " He lifted her upper body and held her in his arms, cradling her form to his chest. _She is breathing…she is_ not _dead; Faramir, get a grip on yourself, man!_ "Arwen?" he said softly, looking into her face. The guards were muttering something about 'the Queen, the Queen!' but she only seemed to be unconscious.

"Tiriel!" cried Annî, reaching for Arwen, and Éowyn pressed the girl's head to her shoulder.

"Is she all right, Faramir?" she asked, and one of the guards hurried over to him.

"She is breathing. She does not seem to be injured," he replied softly, his voice more steady than he felt inside.

"Thank Ilúvatar," she whispered, tears filling her eyes, "we made it in time. We should make her comfortable until she wakes."

Faramir carefully lifted her. "He must have knocked her out. Perhaps they were going to kidnap her as well," he thought aloud. He nodded toward the elf and looked at the guards. "Get him out of the House." The soldiers dragged up his mangled body as Faramir carried her into the bedroom.

"He was dead before you even shot him," Éowyn said softly. "Arwen saw to that."

"It is good that she knew how to defend herself. Thank Ilúvatar we are all safe." If anything had happened to Arwen, his heart would not be able to take the grief of failing in his responsibility and the loss of the wife of his best friend. She looked peaceful as she lay there, and then he turned to his wife. "I must find out what happened here and see to the guards. Will you stay with her until she wakes?"

"Of course," she replied, and Annî tugged against her arms.

" _Down_ ," she insisted, and Éowyn set her on the bed where the child laid near Arwen, sucking her thumb into her mouth.

Faramir reached over and caught Éowyn by the waist, pulling her into his arms. "You saved my life tonight with your bravery."

"And you saved many with yours," she whispered. "My children need a father, you know."

"And I need you," he replied, kissing her. She leaned into him, wrapping her hands into his hair and holding him extra-long. Finally, she released him.

"Be safe, please."

"I should be back in a few hours, near dawn. The guards will stay here with the three of you. Stay armed, Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien. I love you," he said, and he turned to leave the House, eager to see if his men had uncovered any knowledge of the chaos, and hoping there had been no more elves found in hiding.

* * *

Legolas was in pain; Aragorn could see it in the way he pushed Brethil forward. They did not have a moment to talk and would never have heard one another over the howling wind otherwise Aragorn would have asked him what the matter was. A little less than an hour ago it had begun to snow again, and Aragorn was surprised to see the mountains bordering Mordor and the plains covered with it in the moonlight. They could even see the campfire and smoke not even a few miles ahead in the growing light. The sun would peek its head soon, and they would already be upon the camp.

He was worried about what they would find when they caught up with this group, two men, an elf and Enguina. She would require healing, that much was certain; the wound was probably worse than even he thought, though he could in no way share those sentiments. They had been running for many, many miles, and he could tell that Brethil and Lómë, who were not worked quite so hard, were tiring. The journey home would have to be slow, especially for an injured Enguina.

He could hear Gimli cursing the blizzard conditions behind him, but Aragorn knew it could have been much worse. There was nothing they could do now but press on; they were close.

" _Legolas!_ " he shouted to the elf. Still clutching at his chest, the elf looked up, seeing that Aragorn was pointing ahead. He looked and caught a glimpse of the campfire.

The horses poured on more speed.

* * *

Arwen's consciousness returned to her suddenly and she sat up with a start. A wave of dizziness crashed over her and she closed her eyes as the whole room spun around her. _How many times have you told yourself, Arwen…do_ not _sit up quickly!_ Someone's hands caught her shoulders and lowered her to the bed; she knew it was her own.

"Arwen, take it easy; it has been a long night." She heard Éowyn's voice speak softly, and she carefully opened her eyes to focus on her. She lifted a hand and stroked her womb with it, sighing in relief. The baby was all right…and she had woken up.

"Éowyn? What happened?" she asked, her brows furrowing.

"You do not remember?" Éowyn asked, worried. "I was hoping you could tell me. When we came into your home last night, Faramir found an elf hovering over you. You had clearly been fighting him—"

"I remember that I nearly sliced him to death with Hadhafang," she agreed, "but then…I hit my head…and I do not remember much of anything." Moving her head, she felt a strange pain and she lifted a hand to feel the bruises on her neck. Éowyn looked upon her sharply, as Arwen's movement had drawn attention to the darkened skin, and her eyes widened.

"Dear Eru…Arwen, your _throat_! What _happened_?" she cried, moving closer to her. Arwen's neck was severely bruised, and it hurt when Éowyn gently touched it.

"I…" she hesitated, "I wish I could remember, Éowyn." She shook her head slowly, trying to soothe the ache. "I heard shouting; are the people—"

"The people are all right, though some of the guards had been killed. Apparently, they were after you, and their little battle in the courtyard was a diversion."

"He was of Mirkwood," she said, remembering. "I recognized his features."

"I thought they looked a bit too similar to Legolas for my liking. We came as quickly as we could to reach you when we realized their attack was to draw us away from you."

"Why did they come for me?"

"Faramir thinks they were planning to take you prisoner as they had Enguina," she replied. "Perhaps they would have if you had not defended yourself and we had not arrived just as we did."

"They must be renegades from Mirkwood, for none of Thranduil's people would ever attack Minas Tirith. You think the two attacks were connected? Do you think the same people took Enguina who tried to kill me?"

"I do not know, Arwen, but we are trying to find out as much as we can." She sighed and leaned forward, "Let me see your throat."

She waved her away. "I am all right, Éowyn. It is only bruised…I am not in much pain."

Faramir entered into the room and breathed a sigh of relief. "The sun is rising and so are you, thank Eru. How are you feeling?"

"Well, as far as I can tell," she replied with a smile, "aside from a terrible headache."

"You should stay in bed and rest a while longer. I will have someone bring breakfast to you."

"Faramir," she replied, shaking her head, "I am fine. As soon as this pain had faded, I have rounds within the Tower to make, and I need to see the families of those who were killed in the attempt on my life."

"You need to rest, Arwen," added Éowyn, "and you cannot go about until I have a look at that neck!" Arwen began to get a stubborn look in her eye, and Faramir frowned at her.

"I would not stop you from going ever," he stated, "but I believe that you should rest a little longer. Think of the child," he said, his face filling with worry. Arwen tightened one hand on her stomach, and after a few moments, nodded.

"I am sure the child is fine," she said, "but as you wish! I shall wait until after I have had my breakfast and rested another hour. Then I will go."

"That sounds a _little_ more to my liking," Éowyn sighed as she shook her head at Arwen, "though I would prefer you stayed in bed all day. Annî was awake half of the night as well and she is enjoying sleeping beside you."

"And you have not been sleeping well," Faramir added.

"Stop worrying!" Arwen groaned. "I am not foolish. I feel _fine_." Éowyn rolled her eyes and Faramir smiled down at her.

"Rest a little while, my Lady, and I shall get your breakfast!" replied Faramir.

* * *

Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn stood on the edge of the camp, and all was covered with a fine grey fog. They had left their horses a bit less than a mile away as dawn had broken, and they covered the last mile or so on foot. There was no way, in the snow covering, to keep their way silent except for Legolas, but it made little difference. The men were so engaged in packing up their horses and arguing that they never saw or heard them coming. The Hunters wasted no time in moving forward with their weapons drawn; Legolas had his bow aimed at Calendur's head as they drew near. Enguina lay on the ground at his feet.

"Lay down your weapons," Aragorn called to them, startling each one. Belegore whirled with his sword at ready even though he already knew the voice, and Calendur yanked Enguina to her knees, pressing a dagger to her throat. " _Peace_!" he said firmly, holding out a hand, staring at Enguina's limp form; the elf had to hold her upright. "We want no quarrel with you and your men."

"Release the girl!" Legolas snapped, his arrow aimed for the elf's head. His eyes missed nothing about Enguina, from a hair out of place to her blood-stained clothing to her sweaty forehead, bruised and bloodied face and pale complexion. Her breathing was fatigued; she was ill…and he was going to _murder_ them. The cry in his heart had stopped an hour ago, and now he knew why: she was unconscious.

Calendur glanced from Legolas to Aragorn and sneered at them. "A wrong move and she dies, sons of Kings! Oh! King of Gondor, where is your army," he mocked him, "to enforce such peace? You are a fool, thinking you could come here and take her with no difficulty!"

"A man does not need an army to make peace, but to wage war," he replied, glancing at Belegore, who had lowered his weapon. Dagnirhir was nowhere to be seen; they must be cautious. "The Reunited Kingdom is not at war with you. How has Gondor wronged you? Who are you? Why have you taken the Lady?"

"I _know_ him," Legolas snarled, never removing his eyes from the elf. "He is of Mirkwood; he was the rebel who tried to murder my father and claim lordship over his realm."

"I knew _you_ would come," the elf replied with a little smile. "I know your type too well! You are, all three of you, such fools!"

"Yes, we've come; now hand over the lass! If we've got to take her, you're all going to die," Gimli growled, taking a threatening step forward and hefting his axe. Calendur pressed the dagger into her throat, and Gimli stopped short.

"That is not so wise, dwarf," he hissed. Legolas looked at Aragorn out of the corner of his eye, shooting the man a look of pure desperation and terror for his love's safety. Aragorn did not look at him though; his eyes were fixed on the other man who stood near the elf.

Belegore became enraged at the sight of the blood beginning to seep down Enguina's throat. The last few moments he had spent deciding what his next move would be, but as Calendur pressed the dagger to her throat, he saw instant red. He turned from watching the Hunters and looked back at Calendur instead, sheathing his sword.

"What are you doing, fool? They are armed and—"

"Let us give this up, Calendur," he said, shaking his head. "It is pointless now; we will perish in a battle against these warriors who have won such great renown that songs of them are already legend." He looked down at Enguina's shaking form and his eyes hardened as he raised them to the elf's. "Let her go…and we shall be done with this. It is over."

Calendur scoffed at him. "What has come over you, Belegore? Days ago you were eager for these moments and now you would betray all we have worked for? Draw your sword! We can still escape; they have no horses—"

"I have seen her suffering, and I wish not to see it anymore. I have met and seen the Queen, and spoken with the King…I have understood things finally, and clearly. If I could take back all of the wrongs that I have not righted within the last days I would do so, but what is done is done. Now, I must move forward with the new knowledge that I have gained.

"The King spoke to me that we must defend the innocent so that they could live the lives Eru gave to them. I tried not to listen, but as I became well-versed in the suffering of the elf you hold captive, even at my own hands, I knew that it was my duty to defend her. It is your turn, Calendur; _it is you who must stand down_."

"I need do no such thing!" he hissed.

Belegore pointed at him. "You said she would go unharmed, yet at every turn she has been wounded, and you, _yourself,_ did the wounding. You will release her."

"A man who repents shall be forgiven," stated Aragorn, his eyes now fixed on Calendur. "Enguina has committed no crime against you, has done nothing to you or your men; set her free. For whatever reason you say we are fools, we are here. Take out your punishment on us if we have wronged you, the Lady has done nothing. What can you hope to gain?"

Calendur could not hold the King's steel gaze no matter how hard he tried. But instead of being wounded, he laughed, for he caught the shadow of Dagnirhir behind the King, and knew the time was right. "What do I want of you, Aragorn Elessar? I wish you and the Queen and all the offspring you believe to ever call your own to _perish_. _Death to the line of Isildur_! I want you and all your family with you, to _die_!"

There was nothing that would have caused Aragorn to spin at that moment, but he did, ready for the sudden attack of Dagnirhir from behind. Even so, he barely caught the sword that would have taken off his head, and shoved the man back, battling back into the trees. Legolas fired two arrows at the man, but somehow, the drunk was able to avoid them. His clear shot was taken away by the trees, and he could not follow…not with Enguina so near.

Calendur, in the meantime, had backed towards the horses, dragging Enguina with him, but it was Belegore who drew his sword, reaching out to stop him.

" _No_ , Calendur! You will not get away! _Let her go!_ " Belegore advanced, and as Calendur's attention was drawn away to him, Gimli vanished from Legolas' side, trying to maneuver around to trap the elf.

Furious that the man had betrayed him, Calendur lunged forward and flung the knife he held close range into Belegore's chest. The man had half-a-moment to look surprised and then dropped to the ground, dead. There was nothing Legolas could do for him, but he found Calendur suddenly unarmed. Legolas fired his arrow, hitting the elf in the shoulder. He dropped Enguina and her knees buckled as she dropped over onto her side. Legolas lunged forward for her, roaring, but Calendur suddenly drew his sword, raising it above himself to bring it down across her throat.

Eldarnar blocked the blow, Legolas's arms vibrating with the force of it. He held Calendur's blow there, glaring at him.

"Do you think me a fool?" Calendur asked. "I am an elf, and never unarmed."

"I will kill you," Legolas said, his voice deadly, "I will kill you for what you have done to her. Years ago, you could have been a good man, but you are now left to your own evils with none to help you; you even kill your own men!" He tried to push Calendur back, but the elf held his ground.

"But my friends _are_ with me," he stated, giving Legolas an evil smile, "they are simply not _here_. Within the last two days, my brother and his allies have stormed your precious Tower in Minas Tirith. O! For the glory of Sauron!"

"You lie!" Legolas snarled, gritting his teeth. "You have not enough allies to take Minas Tirith!" Legolas hoped that if he kept Calendur speaking, Gimli would have enough time to take the over-confident elf by surprise. The dwarf was almost in position.

Calendur laughed. "You desire so much to believe that what I say is untrue, and yet in a way you are correct. You see, I do not have the strength and power to capture the High City of Gondor, but I do have the cunning and the quickness of elves to take the very heart of the people."

Confusion poured through Legolas's features. "What are you babbling about? Your tongue was always as a serpent, Calendur, full of lies and trickery. Speak quickly!"

Calendur laughed once more. "Do you know what lies at the very heart of the people of Gondor, Legolas?" He leaned closer to him and snarled, "It is the Royal Family. If there is anything that I have desired in the entire world it is their deaths! Dagnirhir, if he is not so stupid and clumsy, shall take care of the King, but it is truly of no consequence if he lives. The King, if he should return alive, shall return home to find the Queen, his lovely precious wife… _slain_."

Legolas shook his head, refusing to believe. "You are a liar!" he snapped, shoving the sword up in his anger. He shoved the elf back into the horses, who skittered away from him, and knelt at Enguina's side, holding Eldarnar out. Her breathing was shallow. "Guin, Guin," he whispered, touching her bruised and swollen face. He was terrified for her; he could feel the heat of her skin. But he had to stand and rally against the elf who launched himself at him again. He caught his wrist as the two of them clashed swords.

" _Am_ I now?" Calendur snapped, trying to shove Legolas back. "Think hard, _Prince_! Why did I take the girl? I care nothing for her…but I knew every last one of you did. Three of the most important men in Gondor had to leave, or there would be too much protection. This she-elf was the logical choice when I found that she was the Queen's particular friend…and much more to _you_." He smiled. "I knew the dwarf would follow you anywhere, and the King would have to go rescue her.

"Ah, now you see…the objective of my mission was complete distraction for _you_ , but Aragorn most of all, including his pathetic heart—he _cannot abandon_ a friend, you know!" he cried with mock horror. Then, his face hardened. "But when you return home, if you live, you will find the Evenstar dead, for I know that my brother will not fail." He smiled sinisterly. "No more elf, no more child, _no more line of Isildur._ "

" _No_ ," Legolas whispered; he could not deny the truth of Calendur's words as they settled over his heart. He did not wish to believe it, but all of the pieces fell into place. The grief of it overpowered him. His best friend from childhood, the only woman his best friend had ever loved, the mother of the heir to the throne—dead? But it was not only that…the babe would be dead as well. A _baby_ , an innocent life! He tried to collect himself…he could not falter, not now when all was so close to coming to an end.

"Yes," Calendur said with a sneer. "I can see your acceptance of the truth in your eyes. With any amount of luck, she is dead already, or soon will—"

Legolas lunged forward, anger overloading his grief as he shoved the elf back towards the trees—and onto the blade of Gimli's axe. Calendur's mouth was open, his eyes blankly staring into Legolas's as the elf backed away. The dwarf, snarling, withdrew the axe. As the elf dropped to the ground, he brought the axe down again and again, yelling at the top of his lungs. Legolas stood, frozen for a moment, and then suddenly realized what was going on.

"Gimli. _Gimli!_ " Legolas said loudly, and he reached forward and grabbed the dwarf's arms before he could raise the axe again. "He is dead…dead…" Gimli looked up, tears on his face.

"It can't be true! It can't be! She can't be dead!" he muttered over and over, and Legolas yanked him into his embrace, staring off into the forest behind him. As much as he wished it was not, there was no denying that this whole escapade had been a diversion, a trap for Aragorn. Oh how he wished he had not asked the man to come!

"Enguina," he whispered, and Gimli released him, using his beard to dry his eyes. Legolas turned and went immediately to her side, kneeling down in the snow and rolling her onto her back. She coughed with difficulty. He touched her face, worry creasing his brow. "Guin?" he asked, and glanced over at Gimli. "She is burning with fever."

" _Legolas?_ "

Her voice was weak and barely a whisper, but it was full of pain. He looked immediately back to her, placing both hands on her bruised face, her left eye was so swollen. "I am here, Guin. We came for you—"

" _You came_?" she whispered.

"Here," Gimli said, sniffing, holding out his cloak to the elf, "she's freezing, lad." Legolas took it from him and wrapped her with it, trying to keep her warm. "I'll get a fire going," he muttered, moving away toward the place where the men had built one. "Lad's going to need a fire…"

Legolas held her close and tight in his arms, and he could see the tears on her face. "I love you," he said, his heart heavy with emotion. "I love you. I was so terrified for you, but you are safe now. You are safe."

" _Gimli_ …"

"He is here, lighting a fire. Aragorn," he said and his voice caught, thinking of everything the man did not know, "Aragorn can heal you. You are going to be all right, everything is going to be all right." He rested his forehead against hers. "Let me get you to the fire; you are freezing." He lifted her carefully and carried her to where the dwarf stood.

"Where's Aragorn?" asked Gimli, glancing around and Legolas shook his head, his worry evident.

"I must go to him," he said, his voice catching. "He must know…he _must_."

"But he can't leave without—"

"I know," Legolas interrupted him, and then touched Enguina's face again, laying her back down. "Guin," he said, "can you look at me?"

She carefully opened her eyes to look at his wonderful face; she had been thinking last night that she would never see it again. She felt his icy hands on her sweaty face and she sighed softly. " _I love you_ ," she whispered, and he smiled at her. He seemed upset, and she could not fathom why he was sad; she could not even hear Gimli breathing though she knew he must be nearby.

"I have to find Aragorn," he whispered. "I have to make sure he is all right, and then I will be right back." He looked into her face; time was short. She was so very ill. "I will be back at your side—"

" _No_ ," she said, and there was a flash of terror that speared through her face that broke his heart. " _Please_ …"

"Gimli will be right here; you will not be alone. I will be right here…I promise. I will be back in moments… _just moments_." He took her hand and placed it in Gimli's who was now kneeling beside her. He looked into the dwarf's wet face.

"Hurry, Legolas," Gimli said, and Legolas swiftly bent and kissed Enguina's forehead.

As he rose and turned away, he stumbled, nearly falling into the fire as she cried his name in his head. But he could _not…_ he could _not_ turn back to her. Aragorn had to know the truth, he _had to know_.

He followed the steps of the sword-fighters.

* * *

Aragorn concentrated solely on the fierce attack of the man before him. He could think of nothing else, not even Enguina or what was going on between Calendur and Belegore. Dagnirhir had set out into the woods to draw him away; he was not a fool, and he knew Dagnirhir wanted to fight him alone. But Dagnirhir greatly underestimated his strength in battle, and a drunk, though strong, had no power over a battle-hardened man like Aragorn. Andúril was like a hammer in his hand; there was no way he would be beaten. Dagnirhir could not even rock Aragorn back on his feet no matter how hard he swung or how brutal his attacks. There was no way he could win this fight.

"Stop this madness," Aragorn urged him as they crossed swords, the other man breathing and sweating as he had run a race. "It is over; you are going to kill yourself! Do not be so foolish; you are drunk and cannot have a victory. Surrender!"

"I'll see you die, filthy Ranger!" he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. He roared forward and Aragorn stepped aside, letting him trip over a tree root that sent him flying to the ground.

"I said, enough," Aragorn stated. But Dagnirhir was not going to hear him; he launched himself at the King. Aragorn stepped aside again, keeping his weapon completely out of the way. Dagnirhir stumbled and fell into the nearest oak, and when Aragorn turned back he was lying on the ground in the snow.

Aragorn shook his head. "Do you yield?" he asked, and when the man did not answer, he closed the distance. Using his foot to turn Dagnirhir onto his back, his face was all shock when he realized the man was dead. He had impaled himself on his own sword. " _Fool_ …" Aragorn muttered, and sighed. In danger no longer, though he had not been in much danger to begin with, he remembered he had someone who needed him. Raising his head, he whistled loud and long for Brego. The horses, who had been probably been grazing, would make their way to the wood. He would need the herbs from Brego's saddlebags if Enguina was as ill as he thought she was. He waited, listening for the horses, and heard crunching in the woods behind him.

"Aragorn…" came the elf's soft voice, and he turned to look at him.

"Brethil, Lómë, and Brego are headed this way," he said, and then grew concerned at the look on Legolas's face. "Legolas, what is the matter?"

He, the master of words, suddenly found himself at a complete loss. How could he respond? How could there ever be words for the horror that he must tell his greatest friend? His silence made Aragorn panic, and he gripped the elf's shoulders hard.

"Enguina, she is not—"

"No, no…surely she is very ill," he said and he looked away to the horses as they appeared out of the mist, Brego at the lead. They slowed to a trot and Aragorn laid a hand on the bay's neck as he stopped at his side, the other two behind him. The man glanced back to Legolas.

"The herbs will help her; she will be well," he said, but the elf swallowed with much difficulty. "Legolas, speak to me," Aragorn said, turning fully to him. "What is the matter?"

"I have not the heart, and I have not the words," he said very softly, "and I must beg you for forgiveness before I even speak. Alas that I must be the bearer of…of evil tidings. Oh Ilúvatar, Aragorn, my heart breaks within me." He clutched his chest and had to look away from the man's eyes. "Evil…a great weight has settled on me. You must ride now for Minas Tirith, as fast as Brego will carry you, on eagles' wings if you can! Mirkwood Elves in league with Calendur have attacked the Tower of Ecthelion."

"Faramir is there," Aragorn replied firmly. "There is no possible force that could take Minas Tirith, not now when the guard has increased and Gimli's kin is within the City." But even as he spoke, his heart filled with dread at Legolas's words; he remembered Faramir's words at the possibility that this had been a trap, even the Council had questioned it. Had he, had they, been right all along? His knees felt weak, and he gripped Brego's mane.

Legolas shook his head slowly. "Calendur told me his plans as he held Enguina captive, and O! I would not believe him if I did not already know his cunning and treachery! Alas! it is a long tale; one that I shall tell someday if the time ever permits. But for now Aragorn, you must think naught of it, only of Arwen! You must ride now!"

"Arwen?" he asked, and his heart nearly burst in his chest. "What about her? What were his intentions, Legolas? What did he tell you?" He stared at the elf, almost ready to grab his shoulders and shake him.

"They were to attack the Tower and kill the Queen…and her... _your_ unborn child." He reached out and gripped his friend's shoulders, tears flooding his eyes. "You must ride, Aragorn! It may be too late if you do not hasten!"

Their eyes met, and anguish and torment was shared between them. Each knew what the other must sacrifice if Aragorn rode to the City, or if he remained to heal Enguina. Perhaps it was all a lie, but that could not be believed. It was certain that without healing now, Enguina would not survive the return journey; Arwen, the child…their fates were much less certain. Even were Aragorn to ride right now, he might not be able to save them.

Though the pain in his heart seared deep enough to pierce his very soul, his terror consuming him, Aragorn knew what he must do. He turned from Legolas before he lost control of his emotions altogether, and, opening his saddlebags, began to search for the herbs. Legolas gripped his hand and pulled it away from the bag, placing it on Brego's reins.

" _No_ , Aragorn…Arwen will _die_! You must go, friend… _you cannot remain here!_ " The pain of Legolas' decision was etched into his every feature; he knew what he was about to lose. But Aragorn released the rein suddenly and embraced him.

"Foolish elf!" he whispered, his voice harsh with emotion as he clutched his friend. "Do not hinder me! I could not go even if it were certain; I cannot let Enguina die. You shall _not_ surrender the happiness of all the ages with Enguina, for it is not your choice but mine…and I have chosen. And even through all my woe, my heart is also glad, for one, at least, of those we love shall live today." As Aragorn pulled back, Legolas felt his sorrow pour down his face.

"Resolute man!" Legolas cried in a voice so broken with grief that his eyes spilled overflowing. Legolas bent forward, took the man's face in his hands, and kissed his brow. "I love thee, Aragorn, though through hope I feel naught but grief!"

"See to the horses, Legolas," he said softly, and turned to run back to the camp. Aragorn dragged the back of his hand across his face; he had all the time in the world to debate his choice as he flew towards home. Now, he must act.

He heard Gimli call for Legolas, and he directed himself to the fire where she lay. "Aragorn, you must—"

"Let me tend to her," he said swiftly as he took a knee at her side. Gimli released her hand and her head rolled towards the side where Aragorn knelt. She opened her eyes slowly and found herself surprised at the face she saw.

" _You have been crying_ ," she whispered, but he shook his head, taking her hand and touching her forehead with the other one.

"You are very ill, Enguina," he said to her. "I am going to put you to sleep so I can heal you; the body heals more easily in sleep." He looked up to Gimli. "Please, heat water for the wound." The dwarf stood still, staring at him kneeling there, and Aragorn bit his lip to control the urge to raise his voice. "I have made my decision, and it will not be undone. _Help_ me, Gimli." The dwarf nodded, sniffing, and turned to do what he was told.

" _What—_ "

"Do not be troubled," he whispered to her, looking back into her face.

" _Where_ …" began Enguina, and her voice drifted.

"Legolas will be here in—"

"I am here," the elf said suddenly, taking her other hand in his and kissing the back of it and her fingers. She heard Aragorn whispering words in her own language, but she could hardly understand them, and her eyelids grew heavy.

"Rest a while, dear Lady, and you shall be healed," he whispered. She felt herself drift away from them, but she could hear the muted tones of Aragorn's voice and the soft touch of Legolas even after she had fallen asleep.

* * *

The first few hours of the day had been upsetting for Arwen. She had known they would be as she had visited the families of those who were grieving for the loss of their loved ones. But it was her duty, and she felt for every one of them. The day had started so early in the morning as she had been up just as the sun was rising. The headache from the assault last evening had not gone away; in fact, as she had walked the long way back to the King's House, it had grown worse. She felt so exhausted that she had almost taken the arm of the guard who was walking with her. Faramir would not let her walk about without an escort after what had happened, and though Éowyn was supposed to have been with her, she needed to stay with Annî and she had not been quite well herself.

Perhaps it was the night before, perhaps it had been the last three nights without sleep, perhaps it had been the long walk about the City with a splitting headache, but whatever it was when she had reached the porch of the King's House before the bells rang for ten in the morning, she needed to lie down. When she had, it was the first time she had laid down her head and not thought of _anything._

Now, she lay awake but her every limb felt heavy; she was surprised to find that she had only slept about half-an-hour. Her stomach was churning; she breathed out slowly, resting her hands on her womb. She felt the child moving again, spinning and spinning, and she felt her own head begin to pound. Raising one hand, she rested it against her head. It was sweaty, and her face grew warm even as she lay there. Her ears grew hot, and she gently peeled back the covers, allowing herself to feel the cool December air. She knew that when her ears grew warm it let her body know that if she did not find a way to calm herself she would heave, and the cool air helped her feel a little better. It only took a few moments for her hands to feel like ice and the rest of her was freezing before she pulled the blanket back over her, sighing.

The hot and cold episode played out many more times over the next few minutes, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the illness got the better of her. Ears burning, she tossed the covers off and sat up, immediately acquiring an instant urge to heave. She contained it, surprised as her vision swirled and the pounding grew; her head felt as if it were going to fall off. She rubbed her face with ice-cold, clammy hands, and stood. The chills took over her, and first her hands and then her body began to shake, her teeth chattering. She took deep breaths, hoping to calm her stomach as she stumbled towards the sitting room, thinking she would make herself some tea. She wished for a moment that Aragorn were here to hold her and tell her she was all right.

Arwen could not believe how cold she was, and yet she was sweating. She reached the door and pulled Aragorn's robe on over her shaking form; it smelled good, like him, and it comforted her for a moment. Carefully, keeping one hand on the wall, she made her way into the kitchen. By the time she had put the water over the fire, her stomach was roiling over and over inside of her. She reached out and gripped one of the chairs with her hand, trying so hard to still her revolving world that her knuckles turned white.

She reached over on the counter-top for anything she could heave into; her ears were burning beyond control. Her hands and knees shook, and she placed one hand on the chair as she sank quickly to the floor, unable to control her descent; her back fell against the chair. She tried to breathe deeply and slowly, but the air came out harsh and quick. There was no way she was going to be able to stop the vomiting now, and she wished for the comfort of Aragorn's calloused hands in her hair, his whispered voice in her ear.

It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Aragorn felt Enguina's mind become clear to him and slowly, he began to withdraw from her. He let his hands slide from her hair, and took a deep breath to make an attempt to draw some strength into himself. He felt the weariness that he was accustomed to feeling after he had healed someone, but there was no time for rest. Looking down into her bruised face, he found her peaceful and sleeping quietly and he smelled the smoke of the campfire nearby. The swelling around her eye was greatly reduced and the broken skin on her face was healing. There were welts on her chest and neck that disturbed him, but he had no time to heal them. He followed her arm with his eyes and saw Legolas was attached to it, the concerned elf's face staring at him. Behind the elf, he could see it was already afternoon; he had been working for many hours.

"How—"

"Her wound will be tender," he whispered tiredly, "but the infection is gone; the athelas has done its work. Her fever is fading, but you need to keep her warm and keep her head cool to force it away completely. I…I cannot do more now," he said, his voice full of regret.

"You have saved her life, Aragorn," Legolas said, his eyes full. "That is enough."

Rising, Aragorn collected the herbs that lie around him and replaced them into the bag that he had taken from Brego's pack. He made his way to the bay's side, and the stallion nickered quietly into his cloak, pushing Aragorn gently with his nose. Aragorn shook his head.

"There is no time to rest, Brego, though I am weary. I hope you, at least, have had a good rest; we must ride as fast as we can to the White City…my friend, I must ask this of you—" Brego whinnied. Aragorn smiled grimly. "I know that you will fly, friend…I thank you for your speed." He patted the bay's neck, and Brego stomped his foot as if to tell him that they should go now.

Legolas had followed him to the horse, and Aragorn turned with a small leather bag in hand and handed it to him. "You cannot allow Enguina to travel for many hours at a time, for she is not full strength or full health. She will be weak and tired, and may have pain in her wound, for in my haste I cannot heal her fully. These herbs you must brew and have her drink the mixture twice a day until you return to the White City. When you arrive, then I shall look upon her once more and make certain that she stands in full health." He looked grimly at the elf. "You know very well she will not enjoy the taste, but she must drink it." Legolas smiled softly and clasped his hand about the bag.

"She will drink it, do not worry." He met the man's eyes, and frowned. "Aragorn, you are fatigued," he said softly, and Aragorn turned to tighten the pack once more on Brego's saddle.

"And you should not travel the first day," he added. "Wait until the fever goes away completely and she has a day or so of the herbs in her."

"You must rest, lad," added Gimli, though he did not want to hinder Aragorn. "If you don't rest, you shall not make it to Minas Tirith in three days."

Aragorn rested his head against the bedroll that hung on Brego's saddle, and then he turned to his friends. "Do you not understand? There is not time!" his voice broke as he spoke, but he controlled himself, steeled his will. "Three days is much too long…we shall make it in two."

"Shadowfax himself could not run so quickly!" cried Gimli, "and Brego is only one horse! He can't do the impossible Aragorn, not even for you!" Brego stamped his foot and flung his head up, whinnying loudly.

"He may yet…" said Legolas softly, and he reached out and placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "My friend, go with all speed and know that our prayers are with you. Have faith, Aragorn; Ilúvatar will smile down on you…Arwen will be all right."

Aragorn bowed his head, and clasped his shoulder as well, and then Gimli's. He turned to Brego and mounted swiftly, but Legolas touched his knee. He looked down at the elf.

"There are…" his voice broke as he spoke, "no words to express what is in my heart."

"Then speak naught of it until we greet one another again in the White City! Love her with your whole heart." As he spoke, his heart filled with pain. He reached down and clasped Legolas's arm. "We do not know how long we may have upon this earth, whether by the will of good or the will of evil, whether we be mortal or immortal. Time is short, Legolas, and I had never known that more than after I had met Arwen. More than ever now I tell you that you should never hesitate to say what it is you desire. If you seek to wed Enguina, then do not wait while this world lasts; seize the opportunity to love her that you can, and then collect as many memories as you may, for it is only _Ilúvatar_ who knows what will come in the future."

"Eru give you speed, Aragorn," Gimli said with tears in his beard.

"Good journey, my brother!" cried Legolas, stepping back from Brego.

"Noro lim, Brego! An Arwen, noro lim! [Ride on, Brego! To Arwen, ride on!]" It was as if the stallion had wings, no more would he linger. He was chasing the wind, and Aragorn did not slow him for the stallion knew even better than he the road that would carry them home.

In moments, they saw no more of the bay bearing a very desperate husband and father.


	27. Chapter 27

Author's Note: Thank you again for continuing to read and enjoy my story! :O) And thanks for reviewing and encouraging me! LOL You guys rock!

* * *

Arwen slowly raised her head and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. It was the fifth time this afternoon that she had felt so ill in her stomach she could not control the urge to heave. She rested her throbbing head against the cool wood of their bedroom and swallowed slowly. She could accept the fact that she did not feel well, but expelling all she had in her stomach was not a treat; she felt downright miserable.

She was seated on the floor of their bedroom, Aragorn's robe and a blanket wrapped about her shivering form. She leaned against the wall, shifting her head a little every other moment so she could continue to drain it of its coolness. She wiped the back of her neck; it was covered with sweat even though she was freezing. Closing her eyes to stop the spinning of the room, she imagined Aragorn's soothing arms about her, comforting her and drawing her close to him. Taking deep slow breaths, she hoped to calm both her nerves and her stomach.

She had tried to lie down all afternoon, but she had not slept. She tossed and turned when she had actually been lying down, and when she was not doing that, she was pacing the floors holding on to the furniture to keep her steady. She felt terrible; her head felt very warm, but her hands and feet were ice-cold. There had been nights when she stayed awake and did not feel tired. After the initial half-an-hour that she had been able to sleep, she had only been able to get five minutes here or there. She had fallen asleep on the dining room floor, her back against the chair, and she had woken to the most _horrible_ nightmare. It had been something about Aragorn…but she could only remember his bloody hands and frightened face. She had no idea what had woken her, but there had certainly been a cry on her lips and bile in her throat. It was well that she had done nothing with the pot that had been next to her, for she had needed it then.

Arwen had thought at that point to get the tea, but instead of soothing her stomach it reacted terribly…she had heaved twice within the next twenty minutes. No more tea for her after that, and the baby was restless within her.

It took her another moment, but she realized she was most certainly going to heave again. _Is there anything left inside of me?_ Much to her dismay, there was, and she was very unappreciative. Her ears and head felt as if they were on fire, burning, while the rest of her felt as if she were as cold as ice. Carefully, she pulled the blanket around her shoulders a little more tightly. Her hands and knees shook, and she felt very unbalanced even though she was still seated on the floor. She did not wish to rise, but slowly she did, steadying herself on the wall of their bedroom, her vision spinning so badly that she gagged but did not throw up again.

She felt a pain in her stomach and she rested a shaking hand over it. With a soft sigh, she leaned back against the wall to rest for another moment, laying her head on the cool wood once again. She wished once more, more than ever, that Aragorn would return and hold her. _Thank Eru that I did not agree to lunch with Éowyn._ They had, however, agreed upon dinner. That gave her half-an-hour to collect herself, bathe, and get over there.

She reached over, grabbing the bedspread, and slowly pulled herself onto the bed, leaving the pot on the bedside table. Perhaps she could lay her head down for five more minutes; even five more might make her feel better. Her eyes closed against the cool fabric and she pulled the blankets about her, wishing, hoping that Aragorn would come home to her soon.

* * *

Enguina could hear Legolas's soft voice break through her consciousness. She could not tell what it was he was singing, but his voice touched her heart and made her feel safe and secure. She was with _him_ …she was safe; he had come, when she had almost given up all hope, when the night had closed in around her. Her chest did not ache with illness though her face was still hot. _Thank you. Thank you, Ilúvatar._

"Guin?" he said softly. Her breathing had changed and she smiled slowly, not opening her eyes.

"How did you know I was awake?" she asked him. She felt his fingers touch her cheek as he placed a cool cloth on her forehead.

"I have been watching you every moment," he whispered. "How is your head?" His thumb stroked very gently over the bruise that spread from her eye to her cheek.

"I feel strange," she said, and she opened her eyes, "as if I cannot collect my thoughts. I have hit my head quite a few times in the last few days."

"You are still feverish," he told her. "Your hands are shaking." She realized that hers was in his, and she could feel herself trembling.

"I have never been cold my entire life. It is a miserable feeling; I do not know how mortals do it," she said softly, confused.

"Would you sit in front of a fire all day long in the winter if you were mortal?" he asked her, and she could hear the teasing in his voice. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"I would," she replied, "but only if I were in your arms."

"Enguina—" he began, his eyes serious.

"I thought of nothing else," she told him tenderly, her eyes meeting his. "I thought of nothing but being in Minas Tirith surrounded by the love I have found in Arwen's family and you. How you have changed me!" She laughed softly, tears in her eyes. "I would never have desired this, and now I can think of nothing but you. You came…you came all the way out here to rescue me."

"Well…Gimli came as well." She could hear him snoring and she smiled, her eyes closing and then opening; he could see she was very tired. "Guin, take some rest. We can speak when you are rested; now that you are not very ill perhaps you will be able to sleep."

A sudden image came to her of hands touching her, a belt slapping hard against her skin, and she shuddered, her stomach turning. No…she wanted to stay awake as long as possible; the last thing she wanted was a dream. Forcing her eyes to stay open, she watched him.

"Aragorn?" she asked softly, and he gave her a little smile.

"We will speak of him when you wake. For now," he said, bending forward and kissing her gently on the forehead, "sleep."

"I…I want to stay awake with you," she whispered, but her voice was weak, drowsy. He reached down and stroked her face, running the tips of his fingers over her eyes. "Do not…do that…"

He chuckled, listening to her voice drift away. "You cannot say you do not like it."

"Trying…" she forced her eyes open and then they shuttered closed again as she sighed when his fingers floated around her face. She could _not_ stay awake. "Hold me close…please?"

"I will not let you go," he swore to her softly.

* * *

It was late evening, and Arwen was seated at Éowyn and Faramir's dinner table. She listened to their joyous voices, but she herself did not feel joyful. She had simply pushed around the food on her plate, unable to eat more than a bite. Surprised that she had made it through the entire meal without heaving once and that she had sat up for so long, she could feel her stomach begin churning. It was definitely time to be on her way; she needed to lie down. Resting her hands against her womb, she felt the pain increase, shooting into her back. Either something had not agreed with her from breakfast, or the morning illness was lasting all day today and increasing ten-fold. Hardly able to hold her head up anymore, she rested her forehead against her hand and closed her eyes.

"Arwen, you are very quiet tonight," Éowyn told her, but when she did not raise her head, she looked at her suspiciously. Even Faramir looked up when she did not respond. "Arwen? Are you well?"

Arwen lifted her head, glad for the moment the fever did not show in her face; even she knew how pale she was and she swallowed. "I…I am feeling strangely out of sorts tonight," she replied softly. "I think…I should go back to the House and lie down for a little while."

"Please, you can lie down in the—" Faramir began, rising, but she shook her head.

"I think I would be more comfortable at home."

"It is an odd time of day for the morning sickness," Éowyn said. "Is that what you are feeling?"

Arwen slowly shook her head. "I have no idea, but I feel…odd." She breathed out very slowly. "I need to lie down."

Faramir insisted they would walk her home, and, Éowyn carrying Annî, it was only after the small party had walked out onto the street and were looking towards the King's House that they began to notice Arwen was moving very slowly, nearly lagging behind them. Faramir thought for a moment he saw her hands shaking, and he turned to her.

"It has been a long day," he said softly. "I am sure you will feel better in the morning after some rest. Perhaps lunch did not agree?" Arwen nodded, and he slowed to take her arm. "You look feverish to me," he said, and Éowyn slowed to walk with them as well, Annî boosted up in her arms. Faramir lifted his hand and, even though she flinched away, he still brushed his fingers against her forehead. "You _are_ feverish," he said worriedly. "Arwen—"

"Everything is fine," she interrupted.

Éowyn reached over and touched Arwen's hand. "Your hands are like ice," she said, looking at her. "Are you sure you are—"

"I just need to lie down," she said softly. The stabbing pain in her stomach was worsening into a cramp that was causing the pain in her lower back to become severe; her legs were not moving correctly. _What in the world—?_ Her head was spinning and she closed her eyes; she knew this walk by heart and Faramir held her arm, so she did not feel any need to keep her eyes open.

"I think that is definitely a good idea," Éowyn added. They reached the porch and when Arwen reached out to lay her hand on the railing, the pain speared through her legs and back causing her to stumble; her knees gave out and she swung sideways when her hand caught on the rail, falling onto the stone steps. Faramir caught her around the waist.

"Arwen!" Éowyn cried.

Faramir could only ease her down. "Arwen?"

She heard both of their voices, but she could not answer them just at that moment. She had only just come to the realization that the pain was not coming from her _stomach_. The hand that had been on Faramir's arm was now wrapped around her womb, incredible pain keeping her on her knees. She held herself up with one arm on the snow-covered street, her mouth open as she gasped, hardly able to breathe. Being this close, Faramir could feel the heat of her face, and he laid a hand on her back.

"What is the matter? Arwen?" Éowyn could not put down her daughter, but even the little girl reached for Arwen, repeating her name.

But the elf could not think about them; she was focused internally for a moment; she felt nothing. This was the time when the baby was usually so active and moving about; he had been all day and suddenly she realized she had not felt him all evening. _Not_ _once_. It was not just a physical feeling…she could not _feel_ him…as though he had never been there to begin. Head swimming, pain etched into every feature, sweat beading on her forehead, she looked up into Éowyn's face.

"I cannot…" she whispered her breath catching, "I cannot feel him.

"What?" Éowyn asked; she was so shocked by the words she hardly knew what to respond.

"I cannot feel the baby," she said again, beginning to panic. "There is nothing…nothing."

"That happens sometimes," Faramir said soothingly. "The baby needs to rest too, Arwen. Let me get you out of the snow so you can lie down inside."

"Different," she began to insist but then she was gasping and crying out, her body buckling in pain. She collapsed onto her side, both hands now clutching her stomach as she automatically tried to pull herself into a tiny ball, trying to protect the life inside her.

Éowyn leaned forward and set Annî on the porch. "Stay right there!" she cried, pointing at the girl as she knelt down in the snow next to Arwen, reaching out to cover the elf's hands with her own. "Talk to me, Arwen, tell me—"

"It _hurts_!" she cried out, tears on her face. "Éowyn, what—" She was panting for breath as Faramir reached down and laid a hand on her brow.

"Shh, try to lie still, breathe…stay calm," she said soothingly. Faramir looked at his wife, startled as Arwen kept her eyes tightly closed, desperately fighting back the pain.

"Éowyn, she is—"

"Burning up," she finished for him. "Get her inside and lay her down, right now. Guard! _Guard!_ " she screamed towards the street as Faramir scooped Arwen up from the stone. "Annî, with your father."

"Mommy—" The little girl cried, reaching out to her.

"With your _father_!" she said, pointing after Faramir, and the fiery redhead ran through the door after him just as the guard ran up to Éowyn's side.

"Lady Éowyn, I heard your cry! Is something—"

"Run to the Houses of Healing this moment, guardsman, without delay," she said, pointing. "Tell them the Queen needs them almost _this very instant_. Go and bring them right back with you! Do not return without them!"

"Yes, my Lady!"

"Go, _go_!" She hurried back inside the House as the man raced away from her.

The Healers would know what to do; they would be in time to help her.

* * *

 _She was frozen in time; unable to move, her knee held down by his hand, his other raised and snapping the belt across her chest. Welts raised on her breast; pain and fever swarmed her vision. Her wound ached and her cracked ribs seared as she tried to flinch away. But there was no escape, no way to find a place where his hands would not be. She called for him, for the one she wished would save her now. Could Ilúvatar not be merciful? Could he not rescue her? She called out to him, cried for the blessing of his hands, his arms to hold her above this terrible fate…_

 ** _Legolas!_**

The scream split through Legolas' consciousness and the elf blinked, waking from a sound sleep. Rolling to his feet immediately, he drew Eldarnar, ready to wage battle on whoever was attacking their camp. He stared, breathing hard, but all was quiet. There was nothing that might have frightened her, was there? He began to relax when he suddenly heard her moan. He turned, and his knees nearly buckled when he heard her cry out for him in his mind.

Legolas gasped, gripping his head; he was _never_ going to get used it. Watching her there, lying on the ground, he could see that her eyes were tightly closed, her knuckles were white as she clutched the blanket he had placed over her, and her face was soaked with sweat. She was clearly dreaming, and it was _not_ pleasant. He moved to her side and reached out to take her arm and shake her gently out of the dream.

Her reaction was violent. She cried out as if he had grabbed her, and she lashed out at him, her eyes still tightly closed, trapped in the nightmare. Her nails slashed across the back of his hand, and she rolled over onto her stomach and out of his reach. Worried that she would seriously injure the wound she already had, he scrambled after her, catching her arm and trying to roll her over onto her back. Instead of waking, she curled into a tight ball, wrapping her arms around her chest as if to protect herself. It frightened him; whatever she was dreaming about was terrible. He needed to wake her, to give her an escape.

"Enguina!" he called to her, but there was no sign that she even heard him. He would have to use force if necessary; that did not please him, but he had no choice. Legolas reached out one last time to the woman he loved and took her quickly by the shoulders. She lashed out, clawing at his chest and he winced, falling back away from her, staring at her. What in the _world_ was she dreaming about? He sighed, stretching out his shoulders and went back into the fray, tugging her upright as she fought him fiercely. "Guin! _Guin!_ "

Finally, his words had an effect and she cried out as she came awake; there was so much terror in her face that it stunned him. Her hands wound instinctively into the front of his tunic as soon as she recognized his eyes.

" _Legolas_ ," she muttered under her breath and tears fell down her face as she began to tremble. Slowly, and with great care, he pulled her into his chest, slipping his arms about her back and holding her close to him. "I…I…"

"It is all right, Guin; you are safe. Everything will be all right," he said softly, wishing that he knew what had frightened her so. He rested his cheek on her head. "You are safe. I am here; nothing can harm you. Shh…let my words calm you; listen to my voice."

She did; she trusted him. He held her, a light against the shadow of darkness that threatened to overwhelm her. Enguina shivered against him, and he reached behind her and scooped up the blanket she had lost in their scuffle, wrapping it back around her shoulders.

"Is it?" she asked very softly, her teeth still chattering. "Is it really all right?"

"Yes," he replied, confident that she was safe in his arms. He would not let anything harm her while he could prevent it; he would shield her from whatever was frightening her if he could.

"Legolas…" she said, still gripping him tightly, and he smoothed her hair gently. "What happened?"

He did not want to tell her he had heard her cry in his head…how could he? She would think him mad. "You had a night terror," he said comfortingly, knowing that it was not a simple nightmare. "Can you remember what it was about?"

She seemed to stiffen in his arms. Did she _remember_? She knew that it was going to come even before she had fallen asleep. No matter what she did, she could not _forget_. But she shook her head, resting her aching head against his shoulder, her forehead and wet face against his neck. "No…" she said, and somewhere within him, he knew she was not speaking the truth. "No, I do not remember." She was not yet ready to speak of it to him…whatever it was. He acknowledged that, and even though he wished more than anything that she _was_ ready, he respected it as well.

"Are you all right?" he asked seriously, gently leaning her back so he could look into her face. She thought about his question. Her head ached and there was a year's worth of tension in her shoulders, but both were probably from the nightmare. She felt a bit more towards normal because her fever had broken, but her sides pained awfully. There was pain on her features, and he could see it; it hurt her to breathe.

She tried to smile, but it was weak. "If I am to be honest—"

"Please."

"The wound aches very painfully."

"Here," he said softly, "let me move behind you, and then you can rest against me." He tried to move as she nodded, but he was held in place. He looked down into her face and gave her a sheepish little smile, trying to tease her, to make her smile. "You have to let go first, _moina quen_."

Instead of blushing as he thought she would, Enguina slowly unwound her hands from the front of his tunic as if she was extremely reluctant to do so. "It is all right," he murmured. "I am only going behind you; I will not let you go." Carefully, he slipped behind her, leaning her against him, as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. As he held her tight, she relaxed against him. Her back and shoulders still ached, but they were only bruises and welts; she could ignore them to ease the pain of the major wound.

He gently brushed his lips to her temple. "You are safe now, meleth nîn."

"In your arms," she said softly, honestly, closing her eyes at the feel of his breath on her cheek. She was silent for a moment, allowing the pain to subside and just listening to his calm breathing. She rested her hand on his and felt that it was wet. Glancing down, she noticed that it was stained with blood and scratched. "Oh no! What happened to your hand?" she asked, lifting it closer to her face.

"It is nothing," he stated seriously, but as she ran her hand across the scratches, she realized her fingers matched the marks almost exactly. She shook her head.

"Tell me not that I did this to you," she said softly, stroking his hand gently. He frowned at her, slipping his hand out of hers so that he could turn her face toward him.

"You were _frightened_. The night terror had a hold on you, and when I reached for you, you lashed out in fear. It was not your fault." There was silence between them for a moment.

"I…I am so _sorry_ , Legolas. Forgive me." Her eyes lowered.

He kissed her forehead. "There is no need for you to ask for forgiveness; you did nothing wrong. You were reacting to whatever was coming at you, whatever was in your dream…you thought it was me."

Her lips quivered gently. "How can you understand so easily?" she asked softly as her eyes glistened with new tears. He reached up and gently brushed her cheek with his fingers.

"Because…I love you," he said simply. He met her eyes with compassion and love, and then he wiped her face as the tears fell.

"I love you, too," she said hoarsely, and she had to smile at the look upon his face.

"There," he whispered, tilting her chin up, "there is the smile I know."

"Legolas," she chided him, but she found she could not get rid of the smile now that she had it.

He touched his lips to hers ever-so-gently. "We are together again…you are no longer a captive, you are free," he told her, "and I am so glad that you are within my arms again." He folded her back into them, and rested his head upon hers. Silence fell between them for some time.

Enguina could never have told him how good it felt to have his arms about her, what a relief it was to have him comfort her so physically when she had been treated so unkindly for the past few days. She had thought that she would not wish it, after everything that had happened, but she knew who was with her, who was doing the holding. There was nothing she wanted more than to be held by him, and she _wished_ he would tell her he loved her again.

She felt his lips pressing against her temple again, even twice more, finding skin instead of hair. "I love you," he whispered again, and she almost sighed, but she did at least close her eyes to enjoy the brush of his lips. It was absolute bliss to have him at her side. "Your fever is gone," he told her gently.

She opened her eyes again and they fell on Gimli's sleeping form. It made her smile. "I see Gimli still sleeps…does he not wake for anything?" she asked softly.

"Oh," he said, laughing, "there is no need to speak softly. The dwarf will not wake…unless I call him," the elf replied with a grin. "We have been through too many dangers to not be attuned to each other."

"I cannot…I cannot thank you enough for coming after me," she said earnestly, her voice filled with gratefulness. His arms tightened around her. "Were we difficult to find? I tried to slow us down, but it seemed all I did was become injured every time I sought liberty."

"No, you did very well," he told her. "I was so angry they had hurt you so many times."

She did smile then, and he felt it against his neck. "Yes…you and your temper."

"My temper did not allow for any of it. I wanted to kill them," he whispered. "I would have taken all three of them had Aragorn not been so inclined to talk with them. But…I am glad that he did." His mind drifted to the desperate man that was now hurrying home with all the speed he could muster…and then some. A lump formed in his throat; he just did not know what was happening. It unnerved him. It made him want to pack camp right then and gallop off toward Minas Tirith himself, but holding Enguina in his arms, he knew that was impossible. She was not well, and they would need to take their time.

"Where is Aragorn?" she asked, as if their minds were connected. How could he tell her? How could he tell her that Aragorn was racing to save Arwen's life? That even now, he might be too late, that she might already be dead.

"He…has gone," he said quietly and he felt her body stiffen in his arms.

"Gone? Where could he go?"

Legolas hesitated. "He is riding back to Minas Tirith as we speak."

Confused, she tilted her head and then sighed, frustrated. "I want to look at you when you are speaking to me, but this is too comfortable to move. By himself, he is riding back? Alone? The King of Gondor?"

"He had to," Legolas replied, his throat getting thicker by the moment. "He would go faster with just one, and perhaps…perhaps he will reach the City in time."

"In…in time? In time for what?" she asked, but she found Legolas rather silent. Her heart ached for a full minute in the fear of what that could mean, a hundred different possibilities pouring through her mind. He was clearly not going to answer her, so she asked a different question. "Why did those men take me? Why was I out here at all, Legolas? Do you know? Where are they?"

What to answer? Could she handle the truth? All of her questions were a jumble in his mind and he sighed softly. "Calendur and his men are dead."

"Why did they take me? They never spoke to me; they would never answer my questions," she added, and there was silence before she said firmly, "Legolas, you _must_ tell me."

"I…will tell you what I know," he said gently. "They took you to distract us, to get us out of the City. They never intended to hurt you."

"Why would they do such a thing? To _distract_ you? Why in the world would they want to draw you away from Minas Tirith?"

"So they…could attack it while we were gone."

"But they were only four men! It is nigh impossible for that City to be breached!" she exclaimed, confused, but she felt Legolas shake his head.

"Their goal was not to breach it with an army, but to strike the City when it was most vulnerable; when the King was distracted and its guard occupied caring for the wounded and homeless. They had set off an explosion when you were taken," he explained, "so they could take you far from the City under cover of darkness. With so many distractions, they were able to plan a strike on the City's heart. Calendur spoke that his kin attacked the City while we were away…and…and their goal was to murder the Queen."

"What?" Enguina whispered in disbelief. "He had to be lying. He _had_ to be—"

"I want to believe it is," he replied, "I want to believe he was lying, but the victory in his face as he spoke the words…you had to see the elf. And all of the diversions…he had to be telling the truth."

"But Faramir and Éowyn are there, they will protect her! And the guards and…and…"

"I can only pray they were able to defend her," he said and he felt her try to get up.

He held fast. "Legolas, let me go," she said, moving again, "we have to get out of here!"

"No," he said, shaking his head, "you are wounded, and the attack was already planned. There is no way we would ever reach Minas Tirith in time; not now. No, we must leave the racing home to Brego who is carrying Aragorn on wings of prayer and impossibility to reach the White City."

She vaguely remembered the words of Gimli and Aragorn's comment about making the choice. "So…he remained here…for me?"

"He regretted that he could not heal you fully, but…he was in dire need," Legolas said softly. She sat forward and turned to stare into his face. "Enguina," he began, but she cut off his words.

" _Regretted_ it? He should not have stayed in the _first_ place…" she cried. "What If he is too late? What if something terrible has happened? He should have _left_ me; god, I will never _forgive_ myself if—"

"He could not leave without healing you…it was his own decision to remain," his voice fell to a whisper. "You would have died, Guin; you were so very ill." Looking into his face, she saw his fear. "He could not leave you."

"But…but _Arwen_ …"

"He could not take the chance of losing you _and_ Arwen," Legolas responded, and she stared at him. "Think about that choice, Enguina: knowing that the woman before you _could_ be saved, but not knowing if you could make it home in time to save the other. His choice had to be you. I wanted him to go to her and I desperately wanted him to stay…but how could I allow him to make such a choice, a choice between the two of you?"

"I…I cannot believe he chose me," she whispered, her eyes suddenly filling with tears.

"He knew he could save your life; he could not allow you to die. Yet, how could he know if he would not lose Arwen anyway? Then, both of you would be dead. He could not have it both ways. Your life is precious to him, just as Arwen's is." He stroked the tears from her cheeks.

"I have seen the way he looks at her," she gasped. "He does not look at _me_ that—"

"Yet you are his family now," he said softly, "just as you are mine. We must pray that Ilúvatar will reward his good heart and protect Arwen."

"Calendur might have lied," she said, brokenly, her heart aching for her friend, wishing to believe anything but the truth. "Oh, Legolas, how can we not ride to them as quick as we are able?"

"Because you are wounded," he replied honestly, "and Aragorn said that your wound will pain you if you do not take care of it. It was deep, and you lost a lot of blood; you will be weak for a little while."

"How long will it take us to arrive home?"

"At least five days, if not longer," he answered, "and that is only if we do not camp here for a few days, which I think would be good before you return to horseback riding."

" _Five days_?" she asked incredulously. "That is _far_ too long! How can we wait for so long without _knowing_ what has happened to her?"

"We will have to trust," he said. "We must trust that Ilúvatar will be with both of them." She was silent for a moment and he did not fill in the gap with words.

 _Oh Father! Oh, I cry out to you! Please, please, please keep Arwen safe! Please give her your grace and peace! Be as a shield around her and the babe; stand with her and protect her and Minas Tirith until Aragorn arrives. Please!_

She looked up into his face. "Calendur was _evil_. Dagnirhir was even more evil than he was. An explosion in Minas Tirith? A plot to murder a _baby?"_ Her voice became bitter. "I am _glad_ the…the _bastards_ are dead. I am _glad_ that more evil has left this world, and I am glad that you and Gimli are here with me, that you are well. I am thankful…so _thankful_ for Aragorn, yet his choice seems so… _foolish._ "

"It was not foolish," he said firmly, "and it will never be deemed as such. You are alive, here in my arms, because of his choice, and I will never be able to thank him enough. Do not say such things about yourself; you are worth it." He stroked her face and laid a hand on her throat as her eyes filled with tears again. "Since the first moment you set foot in Minas Tirith, you have always been worth it."

He thought about the bruise that was in the center of her chest in the shape of a fist, the bruise across her cheek, her face, her eye, the welts across her chest. She had been struck numerous times and it killed him how they had hurt her; he simply could not let it go.

Legolas looked at her very seriously. "Enguina…did Dagnirhir hurt you? Did he…did he put his hands on you?" He cupped her face. "Are the bruises on your skin from him?"

"I…do not want to talk about it right now," she said softly as she looked away. "I cannot, Legolas. Not now; not in the dark of the night, not even with your arms around me."

"Forgive me," he said gently, "I always seem to ask the wrong questions."

She sighed softly. "No, Legolas, you ask the right questions; the trouble is that I cannot answer them." She grimaced and lifted a hand to cover her side, and she found his hand covering hers a moment later.

"Are you still in pain?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Yes, I thought it might ease, but the longer I am awake it seems the worse it gets."

"Aragorn left me with instructions," he said to her, and she leaned back against him and turned her head back into his neck, breathing gently into it. She had full intentions of talking him out of whatever they were. They _had_ to get home to Arwen; if she stopped complaining, if she pretended that everything was all right, would they believe her? Could they get out of here more quickly?

"What were his instructions?" she asked, already beginning to plot.

"I see that look in your eye," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Do not even think of playing games with me. I shall see right through you."

"But Arwen—"

"Would you shame his sacrifice?" he asked softly, and she physically flinched. "He gave his time to save you, and we will not cast that aside. You must take care of yourself." He looked at her seriously as she seemed embarrassed by his words. "You are in our charge, and we will take care of you. Did you see the tea brewing on the fire? You were to drink it when you woke…and since you have woken, you must."

"Dear, _sweet_ Legolas…it is not entirely necessary that I have this tea."

"Oh, my love," he whispered leaning close to her, "sweet talk will get you _nowhere_."

"But…my pain is nearly gone, and I feel almost well—"

"Ah…" he said poking her in the nose, "you tell untruths. Your pain is strong and steady, and your strength is not yet regained. Aragorn said it is necessary or you shall suffer another infection, and I do not want to lose you…not ever, if such things are possible." She gave him a sweet smile, and stroked his cheek and gave him a soft look.

"Just not now…stay here with me," she said softly, putting on the best pout she could possibly form. "Do not get up _just_ yet." Legolas settled his arms more securely around her and then shook his head, kissing hers.

"I will not," he said. "That is what _Gimli_ is for."

"Oh, _wait_ —"

"Gimli!" he called, and she groaned as he laughed. The dwarf's weight shifted on his bedroll.

"Miserable pointy-ear," he muttered as rolled. "Just because _he_ must be awake doesn't mean that he must wake all _other_ creation." He turned in the direction that the elf's voice had come from and then leapt to his feet upon seeing Enguina awake.

"You're looking much less pale at this time of the morning, my Lady," Gimli teased her, and she smiled at him. "How're you feeling? Are you warm enough?"

"I am actually feeling quite better, thank you, Gimli."

"She is in pain," Legolas said, and his breath caught as Enguina elbowed him and then she hissed from pulling her side. "Are you all right?" His voice sounded so worried.

" _Fine_ ," she said through gritted teeth. Then she sighed, cuddling down against him, trying to relieve the pressure in her side. "I assure you, Gimli—"

"You'll feel much better when you drink this tea that Aragorn left," Gimli added, and moved to the fire. Enguina's shoulders sank, and Legolas laughed. She turned her head to give him a dirty look.

"You now have two nursemaids that refuse to allow you to get away with anything," Legolas joked with her. He did not flinch under her gaze, but took her fingers and kissed them. She was chuckling when Gimli returned and handed her the cup.

" _Ugh_! That smells terrible!" she cried, turning her nose away from it.

Gimli laughed at her. "It doesn't smell all that bad! I thought it smelled rather interesting," he added with a shrug, "but I certainly don't need it."

Gingerly, she took the cup from him and looked at its contents. It was sort of greenish-brown, and no matter how she tried to look at it, it smelled revolting. She looked at it with disgust and swallowed hard, imagining it going down her throat.

"Drink it," whispered Legolas into her ear, and she shook her head.

"No."

"Be a good girl and drink it."

"I will _not_ ," she flat out refused and he touched his lips to her ear and her breath was stolen away. She nearly trembled, but just _barely_ held it back.

"Aragorn said that you must."

"What will you give me?" she whispered, turning her head to meet his eyes. The moment she drew her head away from his lips, she was able to focus and her voice grew stronger. "I refuse to drink it without an incentive!"

"Do not be so difficult," he scolded her. "I will have to tell Aragorn what a horrible patient you are!"

She scoffed at him, and leaned closer to his face, raising one eyebrow. "That was a terribly pathetic threat," she stated. "I truly did expect better from you. You, who are so clever with words!" Gimli continued to laugh at them, now a little harder.

"What is the matter with you?" Legolas asked incredulously. "You are no child! Just drink it! I have seen grown men drink worse and they took it better than you are taking _this_! And I am _not_ pathetic…you," he said, touching his finger to the end of her nose, " _you_ are pitiful."

"What? You did _not_ just call me pitiful!" Both elves looked at each other with mock anger, and Gimli burst into laughter, falling backwards on the ground where he had been sitting. Legolas and Enguina suddenly smiled at one another.

"I am so glad that he is enjoying himself at our expense."

" _Your_ expense," Legolas insisted, but then smiled.

"Indeed," she said with a laugh, and then leaned towards him. "If you kiss me…I shall drink this." He looked at her with feigned horror.

"How appalling…you would seduce me just so you will drink your own medicine?" he whispered.

She looked at him, and those green eyes drew him in. "If you wish me to drink it, you must grant me my desire."

"Mmm," he replied, leaning closer. "And what will you ask for the next time you are forced to drink it?"

"I must _more than once_?" she cringed, and he nodded.

"Think of all those kisses," he whispered and she began to smile.

"That or something equally worthy…I promise you."

"Then, yes…I agree."

He slowly leaned forward and kissed her long as he cupped her cheek with his hand. He checked the urge to hold her to him even more tightly, for he did not want to hurt her, but instead, she pressed against him, eyes closed with the moment of love shared between them. The pain of the worry and separation of the last few days flew between them, but then he gently released her. She touched his face, and there was so much love in her eyes that he…

"Enguina…" he began, staring at her closed eyes. Then his heart nearly burst when he realized what he had been about to ask her: _will you be my wife?_ He swallowed the words.

" _Yes_?" He smiled, cursing himself to the depths of Morgoth.

He waited until she opened her eyes until he said, "Drink your tea." Staring at him one moment longer, she drank the tea, made a horrible face, but then laughed when Gimli finally sat up.

"Well?"

"To not tell a lie, it was not as bad as I made it out to be." She turned to Legolas, and held the front of his tunic. "But that does not release you from our bargain."

"What bargain?" asked Gimli. "What did I miss?" The two elves laughed but said nothing of it. Gimli laughed as well, and then shrugged. Over Gimli's shoulder, she suddenly noticed the horses that were tied together.

"Lómë!" she called, and her black whinnied back to her. She turned to Legolas, "You brought him for me?"

"Well…yes, and no. Gimli needed a quick horse, for Firgenwine is quite fast but small. I believed that you would need a horse for the ride home, and so he became Gimli's mount."

Enguina's eyes widened slightly and she looked at Gimli with respect. "I certainly hope you were safe."

"Of course!" he said, puffing out his chest. "He bore me very well and I have become a good rider, you know. Though I do believe he didn't do it for me, he really wanted to get to you, and that's why he agreed to it at all. Morlómërog reflects his character well."

Enguina laughed openly. "Reflects his—? Gimli, do you not know any Elvish?"

"Uh…Guin…" hesitated Legolas.

"Well, no…two or three words perhaps. Why?"

"Let me tell you what Morlómërog means—" Legolas placed a restraining hand on her arm, instantly fearing for his own neck.

"Uh…Enguina, you do not want to—"

"Don't hinder her, elf!" said Gimli, his eyes suddenly narrowing in suspicion at Legolas. "I want to hear what the horse's name means!"

"Morlómërog means 'Black Demon of the Night'," she laughed, and Gimli's eyes grew as he looked at Legolas.

"You knew, _miserable elf_! You knew and said nothing, you pointy-eared, selfish—"

"Oh calm down!" laughed Legolas, holding up a hand. "You were fine, were you not?"

"I'll bet anything that man knew as well!"

"Yes, Gimli," sighed Legolas, "but what a dwarf does not know will not hurt or hinder him. You would not have taken a step near him had you known his true name."

"That's right, I wouldn't've! Not a chance in hell-fire!" he shouted, and lunged forward, his hands reaching to strangle Legolas. Enguina closed her eyes and ducked her head into Legolas's neck, laughing.

"Hold, Gimli! Do you not think it better to wait until we return home so you may strangle the elf in one fist and the man with the other?"

Gimli thought a moment and then laughed. "Yes! It'd be much better to get two in one swipe. I will enjoy that very much." He laughed again. "'Black Demon of the Night!' What a fool I am!" Behind him, he could hear the horses whinnying and tossing their heads. "If only Aragorn were here to tell us what they are saying to one another!"

"I might have a guess," Enguina said with a grin. "I believe this may be the first time I have ever heard a horse laugh!"

* * *

Her face was _burning_ , her head spinning as she tossed back and forth on the pillow. There were voices whispering around her, but she could barely understand them. It was as though they were speaking another language and she did not know what it was. Sweat plastered her hair to her face and was stinging her eyes, so she did not open them to see who was speaking or to whom. Terror filled her; she did not know what was happening, what was wrong, and panic controlled her mind. Pain seared through her and she groaned, panting for breath, her fingers catching the sheets and tugging, wrapping in them so tightly she drove holes in them with her nails. Her body was a tightly coiled wire, a spring that was ready to snap. _Ilúvatar…Ilúvatar_ ** _please_** _…_ There was so much pain; she was so afraid for their child… _so afraid_. _Help me…_

Éowyn, standing just outside the threshold of the bedroom, stared as the three Healers muttered to each other while gathered at the foot of the bed. Arwen was half-unclothed, her lower body uncovered to the world, her belly jutting out as she lay on her back; she looked as though she was freezing, and Éowyn tightened her hands on the doorframe to prevent herself from lunging forward and covering her with a blanket. She watched her hands grip and tear against the sheets, the way her breath was catching. She was in terrible pain; she wanted to go to her, wanted to hold her, wanted to tell her everything would be all right. Faramir, just beside her, leaned against the wall outside the room, eyes closed as he listened to Arwen within. Annî played on the floor in the sitting room with her dolls, jabbering to herself; they would be here until Arwen was well again. Éowyn could not take one more moment of this, this… _not_ _knowing_. They had to know _something_. Was Arwen ill? Was this a product of the assault? Was this, heaven forbid, a miscarriage? Was the child all right? Was _Arwen_ going to be all right? Could they heal her?

"Please," she called from the doorway, "please do you know—?" One of the older Healers, Talf was his name, came toward her, leaving the two women at Arwen's bed. Éowyn saw one put her hand on the elf's leg, but Arwen did not respond. _Talk to her; comfort her._ Then her vision was blocked by the man and she lifted her eyes to him. "Can you tell us—"

"Lady Éowyn, may I speak with you outside?"

"Is this not far enough?" Faramir asked, without turning his head, but opening his eyes to watch his daughter playing. "We will not go further from her side."

"Very well," Talf said softly.

"She is in terrible pain," Éowyn said, cringing as she heard another half-cry and catch of breath from the bed. "Can you give her nothing?"

Talf shook his head. "There is nothing to give her, my Lady. The Queen is ill; but we cannot starve the fever until this sad process is ended." His face was drawn and tight, and Éowyn's heart nearly stopped beating at his words.

"P…process?"

"The heir of Gondor…is dead," he whispered so softly she thought she may not have heard him.

"No," she pleaded quietly, disbelief in her every word. "No, it _cannot_ be true. She…she was _fine_ …just hours ago. I saw her this morning…I was _here_ with her!"

" _What_?" Faramir's voice came from over Éowyn's shoulder as he shoved himself from the wall to turn and look into the man's face himself. "No," he said firmly, "you must be mistaken. Something else is the matter. She could not have—"

"The child has died; there is no heartbeat, no movement," he continued to whisper. "Her body has begun the birthing; she will bear the child within the next few hours, perhaps even more quickly."

"It is too soon! She cannot be in labor now; she is not yet seven months! Why?" gasped Faramir, grabbing the man's shoulders and shaking him. " _Why_ is he dead? _Why_!"

"Perhaps the stress of the assault was too much," Talf said, trying to be gentle with them, "perhaps she was injured in it and we did not know…we may never know what happened. But it is truth; the child is dead…she has miscarried him."

Éowyn stared at him, horrified, all of her hopes devastated. "No, there must be _something_. There _must_ be something _…anything_ that you can do to help her! _Please_!" She was begging now, terrified for her friend.

"I am…I am so sorry, my Lady. I wish there was something I could do, but she must birth the body—"

"It is a _baby_!" Faramir cried suddenly, his voice catching with his grief. He gripped Éowyn's arms as her knees began to give out and she scrambled, trying to catch the doorframe. "A _baby_ , not a body."

"Forgive me, my Lord," he said, visibly upset, "I meant no disrespect. Sometimes it is easier to stop thinking of it as a baby—"

" _Nothing_ would make this easier," Faramir snapped, his jaw tight. "Nothing you could ever say would make this easier."

They heard Arwen cry out loud, and Éowyn could hear the ladies' voices behind the Healer, "You must lay still, my Lady. Everything will be all right."

" _The_ _baby_ …" Éowyn heard Arwen moan aloud.

"Everything's fine," the older woman said, touching her leg. "Try and lay still."

"Why…why are they _telling_ her that?" she asked, sick at heart. "She is not all right; she is in pain! You have to tell her; you _have_ to tell her!" Éowyn looked at him with wild eyes.

"She is already in a panic, and her fever is rising; this is common with a miscarriage." Faramir's grip tightened so much at the word that Éowyn winced. "It might be better for her if she does not know what is happening. She can remain calm—"

"She _cannot_ be calm when she does not know what is happening to her!" Faramir cried. " _Look_ at her! She is barely staying on the bed now! You _must_ tell her." Éowyn glanced around Talf and she could see Arwen's lips mouthing a word…one word… _help_. There was such pain, such fear on her face; she did not believe them. How could she?

"Let me go to her," Éowyn whispered, " _please_ …she is calling for us."

"It is not wise, being with child yourself," he told her gently, "to be present for such a sad event or to strain yourself so early in your—"

The stress, the strain was too much and in a burst of temper Éowyn let loose on the Healer.

" _Get out of the way!_ " she snarled, her voice savage and low. She collected herself and just as she moved to push him aside, he moved out of her way. Faramir released her as she stumbled forward to the bed, settling on the mattress beside Arwen. The elf's head tossed away from her, mouth open and panting.

"I am here, love," Éowyn whispered, grief pouring through her, and she felt Arwen grip her hand even trembling as bad as she was.

"É…Éowyn…wh—" Her stuttering voice cut off in a cry as her shoulders rose off the bed, her body trying to buckle in on itself; the pain was excruciating, tearing through her back and across her womb and down her legs. No amount of comfort could ever have beaten it back, could ever have eased it. _Aragorn! Estel, please…god, help me!_ Her face was wet with tears of agony and fear, and her eyes suddenly opened, searching the woman's face. " _What is happening to me?_ " she pleaded with her, her nails slicing into Éowyn's skin. " _What_ ** _is_** _this_?" Sobs choked her; it could not be. One of her hands yanked out of the bed sheet and reached for her belly.

Éowyn reached out and touched Arwen's face before her head rolled back the other way, tossing again with terrible pain. She laid the back of her hand against her face and glanced up to find Faramir on the other side of the bed. "Faramir, she is on fire. Feel her _face_!"

He did not even need to touch her before he turned and moved back around the bed to get a basin of water and clean cloths from the bath. Returning quickly and dipping the first cloth in the water, he rested it over her forehead before gently wiping her face with another.

" _Help me_ ," Arwen whispered, her tears pouring down her face. "Please…something is _wrong_ , _terribly wrong_!" Her voice rose to a cry and Faramir reached down to catch her arm and hand as she cried out again, " _What is_ _happening to me!?_ "

"Lord Faramir, you should leave," Talf said softly as he stepped up to the bedside. "And you should take your wife with you. Let us—"

"How can we leave?" he said, unable to tear his gaze from Arwen's face. "How can we abandon her?"

"Your _wife_ , my Lord," he tried to encourage him, and Faramir looked over to Éowyn. The woman leaned over to the elf and placed both hands on her face. Arwen opened her eyes, and she was struck by the terror and agony in them.

"You are in labor, Arwen," she said, and the elf stared back at her, uncomprehending her words. Éowyn could see not just the pain in her eyes, but fever as well.

"Too soon," she gasped, her head thrashing left to right on the bed as her breath caught and she could not breathe for a moment. "The _baby_ …too soon…I have…to protect… _the baby_ …"

Éowyn bit her lips so hard that she cut the lower one open. "Arwen…" she whispered, and tears rolled down her face as she leaned over toward her, stroking her fingers along her face, "they have done everything they can, but there is no…they cannot stop it now."

" _No…_ " Arwen said, hearing the word leave her mouth as if it came from someone else. Her chest heaved; she suddenly found herself unable to breathe. Her whole world was crashing in; her head spinning, her eyes closing, she struggled to reach for her womb but their hands held hers fast. " _No. Our baby…no…no…_ "

"The baby is gone…" Éowyn said brokenly and the words came to Arwen as if from a long distance. "He is _gone_ , Arwen."

" _No."_ Something inside her _snapped_. " _No…no, no, no, no, no!"_ Her chest began to heave, her breaths came out panting, her whole body began to tremble; she could hear sobbing—it was hers. Her hand tore a great rent in the sheet, and when the next spasm of pain came she shattered, screaming aloud, her voice breaking Éowyn's heart. " _No, our baby! No!_ "

Her body jerked wildly, and the two women grabbed her legs under their hands as Faramir caught Arwen's shoulder and held her to the bed. Wailing, Arwen could not lie still, and Éowyn could barely hold onto her hand, her skin torn from Arwen's thrashing and grabbing. She could see the desperation etched into every feature of her face, great pain, great grief consuming her.

"Arwen, _Arwen!_ " Éowyn cried to her, but there was nothing that was going to reach her through the fever or the grief.

" _Please!"_ she called aloud. " _Please, no! Ilúvatar, not our baby! No!_ " Her body spasmed again as she screamed, and she clawed blindly at Faramir as her body tried to be free of them, tried to protect her child from this unknown danger. But he held on, unable to do anything else as she thrashed beneath his grip, as he tried to protect her from herself, from her own grief.

There was nothing in the world that could have prepared her for this grief; nothing in her whole life could have prepared her for the agony of this loss, knowing that there was nothing she could do. She felt their hands on her arms, holding her down as she tried to break free when the pain took her again; writhing on the bed, weeping, head pounding, heart breaking, the fever warping her perception of everything around her. _Nothing_ mattered, _everything_ and _everywhere_ was pain. In a room full of people, she was alone, in utter desolation. Her soul was crying out in desperation for rescue.

" _Aragorn!_ " she wailed, sobbing aloud, _reaching_ for him, _reaching_ with every fiber of her being.

 _Aragorn!_ ** _Aragorn!_**


	28. Chapter 28

There had definitely been a time when Aragorn had felt more exhausted, he simply could not remember when it was. He was sure that it had been during the war…or when he had been ill last year…or before he had reached Lothlórien many years ago after his many journeys in Gondor and Rohan. Brego seemed tireless, but the poor stallion was not invincible and he did not have wings. Aragorn knew that the horse cursed his slowness when he needed rest, and though he had been galloping for many hours now, the man knew better than Brego that he needed to rest his shaking muscles.

"Slow down, friend! If you exhaust yourself now, we shall never reach Minas Tirith," he called to him, and Brego's pace slowed down, but he snorted. Aragorn smiled, and patted the bay's neck. "It has nothing to do with that. I believe you could force yourself to run the whole way, but I believe that you would collapse as we passed through the gate, and I do not wish to lose you before your time." He laughed then, "Imagine: what would Asfaloth do without you?" The bay tossed his head to agree, but then he nickered sadly. Aragorn patted his neck again and sighed tiredly.

"I know you are worried for me, but I cannot rest. We will lose more time if I dismount, and I know that sleep will not take me until I see Arwen with my own eyes. I will find no rest here or anywhere." Brego made no reply, but Aragorn knew that he feared for Arwen's safety as well. He loved her too, and Aragorn thanked the bay once again for carrying him so far, and he thanked Ilúvatar for giving the horse the strength to have gotten them this far so quickly.

They had been travelling long into the night and they were growing nearer and nearer to the White City all the time. The two weary travelers had finally passed deep into Ithilien and with any luck at all they would make Minas Tirith before nightfall today, the fourth since leaving Minas Tirith. He could feel his eyelids drooping, his body so weary; he had not laid down his head for more than a few hours and even that had been a few evenings ago now. Feeling himself drifting away, he tried to draw himself back, but it was difficult.

He suddenly gasped, dropping Brego's rein and catching himself on the pommel of the saddle, his chest lighting with fire and Arwen's name on his lips. His own name echoed in his head, flooding him with pain and grief and terror; blindsided by it, he could do nothing to stop the overwhelming flood of feelings pouring in through his bond with Arwen. Unable to break through the continuous bombardment against his senses, flooding her with his peace was impossible. He groaned, and Brego whinnied, wondering what was wrong with him.

"Arwen!" he half-gasped, half-whispered. It was happening…it was happening right now as he was flying home to her. Was she dying? Was she being attacked? Was she afraid for someone else? He felt Brego's transition to gallop flow underneath him, and he let the bay run. Even the horse could feel the tension in the winter air, and he poured on speed.

He could not speak. He was so worried about Arwen that he could think of nothing else, could get there no faster than what he was already doing. Reaching her side was the only thing that mattered now.

* * *

The guards outside of the King's House were hardened men. They were used to battle, having been part of the War of the Ring and fought against a hundred thousand orcs, trolls, wargs, even Nazgúl. But even hardened men could not listen to cries of pain and grief without goose pimples rising on their flesh and their hearts aching. Nothing human could be unmoved.

The bedroom was swelteringly hot, but Arwen lay shivering on the bed even though she was smothered with blankets. Her hands, one held by Faramir and the other by Éowyn seated beside her, were as cold as the snow on the frozen ground. Her forehead was covered with a cool, wet towel, but it did nothing to soothe the burning of her face and ears. At the foot of the bed stood the three Healers who within the last few moments had become increasingly more agitated. The time was drawing near.

Arwen's wail of agony filled all of their ears, and Faramir winced at its grief. He tightened his grip on her hand as she squeezed the life from his fingers, but he did not even notice. Above her severe pain, her suffering, he could think of nothing else. No woman deserved this; he had never been at the side of a woman in so much pain, and he wanted to do something to ease her, to end it. Her head was tossing now in fever, not just in pain, and she had not spoken in the past two hours; her face was wet with sweat and tears. This was the longest night of his _life_ ; in the past, he would have said the night he defended a failing Osgiliath or two years before when his daughter had been born, but no… _nothing_ was worse than this.

Arwen understood two things; both faded in and out as she wavered on the edge of consciousness. She knew the torment of her own pain as her body shook from the strain of trying not to scream, and she would have curled up into a tight ball if she had the strength, if they would _let_ her. She was being torn in two; in the brief moments her mind was with her, she wept and cried out, unable to do anything except call for Aragorn. For minutes at a time, she would lose the battle with the pain that clouded her brain, black out, and moments later come to screaming again. Within her mind was a constant cry for deliverance, for peace, for rescue by Ilúvatar, by Aragorn, by anyone. The fever was getting worse; she could feel it as some moments she would not remember where she was, who was with her, what her _name_ was…but that was also pain.

The agony returned again, and it was even more excruciating than before. Her lips peeled back across her teeth and her mind disappeared in searing hot white light as she wailed, cutting through them like a knife. Her body thrashed and tried to seize up, but Talf held her down her lower body, the two women holding her knees as they trembled, Faramir's other hand firmly against her chest. He held her hand to his lips, and it was the first time that he prayed fervently that she would feel no more…he prayed that her mind would sleep.

He looked up and saw Éowyn, her eyes closed, Arwen's hand against her forehead as she bowed over it, sobbing. She looked as he felt; her face red from grief and fear, as though she had been up for days. There was a break in Arwen's screaming where her lungs were panting for air, her breathing shallow and pained.

"Lord Faramir," Talf said, looking to him and the man met his eyes, "she is close." His eyes were full of sorrow, glancing to Éowyn, " _Please_ , remove your wife. She cannot…she _should not_." Faramir stood, immediately, obediently.

Releasing Arwen's hand and moving around the bed quickly, he gripped Éowyn's shoulders. "Come with me," he whispered in her ear, startling her. She lifted her head, shaking it violently.

"No," she sobbed, "no, I cannot _leave_ her, Faramir! _I cannot!_ "

"But you must," he said, and he drew her up into his arms as Talf took her hands off of Arwen's. She moaned, sobbing, reaching for her as Faramir took her away, hiding her face in his chest as he stumbled to the door of the bedroom with her. The expressions on the women's faces were enough for him to nearly lose it before he reached the door, but he needed to get her out before Arwen cried out again, or he would never get her out.

"No, Arwen!" she cried, and she fought against him, hitting his chest, reaching for her.

"Éowyn, Éowyn, stop," he said softly and she lost all composure, sobbing into his chest. "You cannot stay there," he whispered, "you cannot. He is right, you cannot." But _he_ had to. There was no way he was letting Arwen alone in that room with a group of strangers…even strangers _he_ knew since he was a child.

"But she is alone… _all alone_."

"Stay here," he said gently, lowering her heavily into a chair beside Annî, who was sound asleep on the divan, a fire lit in the hearth. Éowyn was shaking so badly her hands were clutching Faramir's tunic just for balance. "You are going to hurt yourself," he whispered. "You have to stay."

"Faramir…what do I _do?_ " she asked him, tears pouring down her face. He took her face in his hands as he looked from her to Annî.

" _Pray_ , Éowyn," he said, his voice catching. "Pray for her, and stay with—" There was another wail of agony from the bedroom and both of them jumped. Faramir leaned down and swiftly kissed her cheek. "I _must_ go." He took Éowyn's hand and laid it on Annî's back. "I will be…it will not be long now." He turned away and stumbled back across the threshold; he could not leave Arwen this way.

Éowyn covered her face with her hand, breaking into sobs. _Oh, Eru! What are you_ ** _doing_** _? Why have you done this? Whywhywhy? Where is your peace now? Where is your comfort now? Where is your healing touch now? Why have you left her? Why are you taking her baby? Where_ ** _are_** _you? Help her, help her, please!_

Her hand fell to her own womb that was carrying another little one as she thought of the babe that would never know Arwen and Aragorn's touch, their kisses, their voices. Everything this child could have been, everything he _had_ been, everything that they had lost. Oh, the pain, the agony in Arwen's voice as she cried out again; it was a blade through her heart. _How can you be so cruel? Be a shield around her! Hold her in your arms! Protect her! Protect her!_

Faramir was clutching Arwen's hand again, his other on her face, his brow pressed to hers as he listened to the Healers behind him gasp and exclaim. Her hand was spasming within his, just as her body was, her breath short gasps as she tried to recover from the last sweep of pain through her system. But it did not let up; he was whispering her name, trying to focus her on him. Between the agony and the fever, it was impossible for her to focus on anything.

He heard weeping; it was not Arwen's, and he lifted his head, turning towards her feet. His eyes fell on white, bloody towels…and he had to turn away, the anguish pouring over him as he caught the Healer taking hold of Arwen's knees again, her body shaking underneath him, wave after wave of pain wracking her body.

Why… _why_ did he think that he could ever have survived this? Sitting at her side, holding her down to the bed beneath his hands as her body wrenched and pulled against him? For all his strength, he was _nothing_ …his stomach churned, his head felt hot, yet his own agony was nothing compared to hers. Her body moved on its own, her back jarring off the bed as she groaned out loud _his_ name… _Aragorn's_ name. Her suffering had become too much for him; it was too much. He could not bear it any longer

"Eru, have mercy," he whispered, his head bowed so low it nearly touched the bed now, tears spilling down his face. "Save her…take away her pain…be merciful! Be the god you are! Make it stop, _please_!" he cried out.

He prayed over her all the while that he could hear the women crying about the babe, even as he tried to hold her still. Whether by Grace or no, the fever and the pain finally took over, her cries ended, her body seemed to relax under his hands. His head fell to her shoulder as he thanked Ilúvatar aloud, even if she had fainted. Sitting back, his head spinning from the overpowering assault of blood on his senses, it was difficult not to notice how thin and fragile she felt under his hands now that every muscle was not taut as a rope. Her face was gaunt, soaked with sweat, and he reached up, with hands shaking, and covered her forehead again with a fresh wet towel before he knew he had to get out of this room, even for just a single breath of fresh air.

He stood, gagging, as he stumbled back from the bed; the images were a blur: towels both bloody and clean, blood on the sheets, Talf leaning between Arwen's legs, the women huddled near a box not large enough to be the length of his forearm…he saw no more as he stumbled from the room. He could not even go to Éowyn, barely saw her as he staggered towards the balcony door, falling outside and grasping the rail to continue standing upright, his knees shaking so badly. He gulped great breaths, the freezing night air going straight through his sweat-stained tunic, his head hung low as his shoulders shook with his tears.

Faramir felt rather than noticed Éowyn's presence there with him before she touched his back. In a matter of seconds, the two of them were in each other's arms, Faramir sobbing as he had never known in his life, and they were clutching each other as if it were the end of the world. They were on their knees then, crushing each other, weeping for the loss of that precious life, that little baby held within that little box not even a room away.

* * *

Even in the hours after midnight, word spread like wildfire through Minas Tirith; people were gathered in prayer; the heir to the throne was dead…and the Queen was ill. Healers had left the King's House nearly four hours ago, but they had been requested not even three hours later by another guard sent to retrieve them. Talf had come, in his old way; but he was the best about these things. The guards remained at their posts, but even they knew nothing of what was going on within the House at that very moment.

Shivering under her blankets, Arwen lay lost in fever. She did not know what was happening around her, and she no longer felt the pain in reality, though her mind was filled with it. She thought of nothing, so all she could do was lie still and shake. She saw only in image…deep memory that was now drifting in and out of her mind. If she had her mind for even a moment, there was only one image, one word… _Aragorn_ …nothing else, and then her mind clouded with pain and she was lost to the world.

The old healer slowly bent away from her shuddering, sweating form and his face told both Faramir and Éowyn what they had feared to hear since Arwen had dropped to her knees in the snow. They had known that she was not getting better. When Talf had left before, he had told them to monitor her over the next few hours; when she was awake, they were to give her broth and watch her fever, give her herbs for pain. He had not thought it wise at all to move her to the Houses as it was so cold and her fever had already been high. All of them had thought the fever had sprung from the miscarriage of the child, but over the course of another hour, her fever had steadily risen and within two, when they had left her because Annî had woken, Faramir returned to see her looking thin and sickly. She had not woken and day was dawning.

"Is she going to be all right?" Faramir asked, and Éowyn held both his hand and Arwen's, awaiting the reply as well as he. Even looking on her now, she seemed to have lost weight; she seemed small and weak, not tall and beautiful as she had always appeared to him.

Talf shook his head, and his eyes were sad. "The Queen is very ill," he said, replacing the cool rag on her forehead. "Her fever is rising, but…there is more."

The Healer's voice rang out ominously in the bedroom as he looked over at them and both of them swallowed hard, Éowyn's hands tightening. "What can you mean?" asked Faramir, and Talf looked at him.

"Lord Faramir, Lady Éowyn…the Queen is _dying_."

"What?" murmured Faramir, his jaw open.

Éowyn's eyes were wide and horrified, staring at him. She began shaking her head. "No, you cannot be serious! _Why_?" she cried out, tears filling her face as she tugged Arwen's hand to her breast. "Why? She _cannot_ be dying! She _miscarried_ ; she is not dead!"

"The Queen has been poisoned," he continued softly. "We were so focused on her miscarriage of the child that we missed the _reason_ for the miscarriage. The poison has taken hold; it caused her to lose the child, caused an infection within her that I cannot cure." He gently laid a hand over her womb and then raised it again to Arwen's forehead.

"You…" Éowyn stuttered desperately, "you are a _Healer!_ Why can you do nothing?"

"There is nothing I can do to remove the poison from her system," Talf said gently, as Faramir lowered his head, unable to speak, even to think. "There is no way to heal her; even had I known of the poison from the first. She is too far gone; her body is destroying itself."

"Is there _nothing_ we can do for her?" Éowyn whispered, tears falling on her face. They had cried enough tonight for their entire lifetimes. Talf frowned, meeting her gaze.

"Lady, only the hands of the King could possibly save her now…and even then, I fear, there is not much hope. There is only one thing left to do: pray. Pray with every last shred of faith you possess for the return of the King. Elessar's hands are the only ones that might possibly be able to rescue her from death." He glanced down into Arwen's face and tears filled his own eyes. "Woe to Minas Tirith! Such days are these that we hoped our weeping and sadness was over, and here they are, even more sorrowful than those that came before."

"How long?" Faramir croaked, unable to raise his head to look at the man.

Éowyn looked into Talf's eyes and swallowed hard. "How long do you think she has?"

"I doubt her heart has the strength to last until nightfall," he replied, and Faramir turned away from them, leaning his hands on the dresser, his shoulders shaking with grief. "It is hopeless," Talf said softly, "this I know. I would give her a few more hours at best." He reached out, covering Éowyn's hand with his own as she stared at him, disbelief written all over her face. "Try to keep her comfortable…and you must prepare yourselves."

 _Prepare?_ As Talf turned to go, Éowyn's heart wrenched inside her and she had to clutch her own breast to keep from screaming out loud. "Talf…" she began, and he turned to look at her as her tears fell, "you have told us to pray. Spread the word."

"Forgive me, my Lady," he said, shaking his head. "I do not—"

"Tell the people to pray," she choked out. "Tell them all that the Queen is in peril; tell them to pray for the return of their King. Go, and tell everyone you see."

The old Healer bowed to her and left the House, having nothing left to say, but even Éowyn could hear him telling the guards out front to go and spread the word.

Faramir never heard the man leave; he only had ears for Arwen's pained breathing. He could think of nothing except the fact that she was lying there dying; the babe was gone, and now even worse had befallen her. There was nothing that could be more terrifying…and he had thought the worst had been the miscarriage. Nothing had prepared him for this news.

And then there was Aragorn…and Legolas and Gimli and Enguina. The Three Hunters, his King, had gone to find a friend, and he had left _him_ , the Steward of the King, with responsibilities that were not hard to handle… _guard my family as thy own_. How could he have let this happen? Why could he do nothing? Why could he not save her?

No, the old Healer was right…there surely was _no hope_. Aragorn would not arrive in time; no one even knew where he was. It had been four days since he had ridden out from Minas Tirith; had they found Enguina? He had no idea! Arwen had _hours_ left…and Aragorn had done all in his life for the love of this woman and now he would lose her and he would not even get to hold her in her final moments.

He found himself on his knees near the dresser, sobbing, and he felt Éowyn's hand on his shoulder. Desperately, he tried to think of something intelligent to say, but he felt as if his heart had left him, and he had no more power over speech. She wrapped her arms around him and held him to her.

"I failed them…I failed them all. Aragorn…he does not deserve this grief," Faramir wept, and Éowyn smoothed his hair, tears falling on her own face as she pressed him to her breast. "She is _dying_ , Éowyn, already dead…and there is nothing we can do… _nothing_. Aragorn will return and all will have already come to darkness…and I can do nothing…"

"Shh…oh, Faramir…" she whispered soothingly, though her own voice broke. _Eru, please give me the words to say to him_. She ran her fingers gently through his hair as she looked back upon Arwen's pale face. "You have not failed Aragorn…or Arwen…there is no man that the King could have left in charge that would have protected his family as well as you have. You cannot blame yourself; you have done all that you knew to protect her and save her. She did not know herself that she had been poisoned; how then could we have known? We must…we must believe that Aragorn will come…that he will be in time to save her."

"And what of the babe?" he cried. "He is already gone…dead…"

She felt her breath catch at his words. "We will comfort them in their grief, just as they would have if it had been us. They will need time," she added, "and time alone to accept what has happened. But we must believe, Faramir…we must believe he can make it, that he can save her."

"I will try to have your hope, Éowyn," he said, but he kept his head against her shoulder.

There was nothing more they could do but pray.

* * *

At dawn, Enguina had been adamant about setting off for home, and neither Gimli nor Legolas wished to argue with her. All of their thoughts were with Arwen and Aragorn, at home, alone. Enguina could think of nothing else, and so she had helped pack away their few items and small camp, tied together the rest of the horses and led them away like pack ponies. They seemed very happy to be heading for home, just as the three riders were.

It was now about nine or so in the morning, and Gimli rode up ahead of them, the stringing horses behind him as he held the rope that connected them. Enguina rode in the saddle before Legolas, his arms around her as she leaned against him. As the last day of travel with Calendur had been seen through a fever-induced haze, she was looking about at the lands before Mordor for the first time. The trouble was that she could not appreciate what had gone on here, and did not much wish to think about it. Without a doubt, she was sore, painfully so, and even three hours of riding was taking its toll. Her eyes closed heavily; Brethil had a graceful walk, so it was comfortable, but there was no doubt that even _breathing_ hurt. The tea had stayed with her for about an hour…it had long since worn off.

But how could she complain? How could she do anything right now but desperately worry about her oldest and dearest friend? She was terrified for her; the goal of these men had been to kill her, to kill the child…what sort of people would do such terrible thing? And above all this, she still could not believe that _Belegore_ had been involved; _he_ had been the one to draw her to the stables in the first place! Yet, he had also been the one to protect her from Dagnirhir. Ugh…she could not think of _him_ ; her skin crawled if she did. But Arwen… _Arwen_ …the unborn child. It brought tears to her eyes. They needed to be _loping_ , not walking along this road; she needed to get there so much faster.

Legolas's soft voice broke suddenly through her dark thoughts and she was amazed to find him singing softly in her ear.

 _Here among the trees I roam_

 _Flying from branch to branch, I spy_

 _A twig, a leaf, a bit of weed_

 _To make my bedded nest_

 _Hopping, I scoop dried bits with me_

 _I do not pass them by_

 _Returning home to my beloved_

 _To make our bedded nest_

She smiled at his little tune, and rested her head back against his shoulder. "That is such a sweet little song," she said softly, her eyes closed. "I love to hear your voice singing about the world. You have…so much peace in you, Legolas. I envy you."

"You will find your peace, Guin," he whispered, kissing her temple. He shifted her against him and she winced as his arms pressed against her wound. She did not move though; she did not want him to know how much pain she was truly in. He would be so _angry_ with her if he found out… "Your thoughts are at home, are they not?"

"I…I cannot help but be so worried for Arwen. I am frightened for her, for Aragorn, their babe, even Éowyn and Faramir. She is going to have a little one as well," she mumbled. "But I cannot believe that they plotted against her with much success, and that is what I must hold to, Legolas. I must believe; I must have faith that there is no way that they could enter Minas Tirith; that Faramir and Éowyn were able to kill every last one of them."

"I pray for that as well," he said softly. He gently stroked her hair with his hand, and she closed her eyes, leaning back exhaustedly against his chest. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how she was forcing herself, she was still not well. "You are all right?"

"I am well," she replied, but there was a little catch in her voice. Legolas opened his mouth just as the dwarf drew back close to them again, and Legolas turned his head to look at him. Gimli nodded towards her.

"How're you feeling, lass?" asked Gimli, and she opened her eyes and sat up a bit straighter, only to have her breath catch. There was no way Legolas did not feel all her muscles tighten as she replied.

"I am fine, Gimli," she replied quickly, trying to prevent Legolas from speaking. "The horses are doing very well, are they—"

"Are you in pain?" asked Legolas, leaning into her and trying to look at her face. He was worried now. Had they been traveling too long? Should they have been traveling at all?

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Really, I am fine." He raised his head and looked over at Gimli, who shook his head so slightly that he hoped Enguina would not see it. She did, of course.

"Are you telling me untruths?"

"No," she said again, gritting her teeth and glaring at Gimli. "The dwarf does not know what he speaks of." Legolas leaned over a bit and pressed his cheek to her temple so quickly she did not have time to pull away.

"We are stopping," he said immediately, and she shook her head, grimacing.

"We _cannot_ stop!" she told him stubbornly. "We must get home. We _must_!"

"You will not _make_ it home if you do not tell the truth about your condition," Legolas griped. He turned and slipped from his grey's back.

"My 'condition?' I am perfectly capable of making my _own_ decision whether I can ride on or not," she replied hotly as he reached up and caught the end of Brethil's rein in his hand.

"Then tell the truth when I ask you a question," he said, trying to remain reasonable.

She narrowed her eyes at him as she realized they had come to a stop. "No, we are _not_ stopping. Get back on this horse right now. Brethil," she said, squeezing her legs, "time to go."

Legolas placed his shoulder in front of Brethil to prevent him from moving, and the horse snorted, very confused as his rider said 'go' and Legolas said 'no.' "We _are_ stopping. You are ill, and you are in pain!"

"But Arwen—"

"Enguina, do you want to see her at all?" he asked, looking up into her eyes.

Frustrated, she glared at him. "That is the most _ridiculous_ —"

"You have a _wound_ ," he told her, "one that is not going to get better when you have not given it time to heal."

"Aragorn said—"

"We could ride as long as you were feeling all right."

"I am _fine_! Stop worrying!" She complained, but it was not just the feeling now that her side was in pain. Her head was swimming now, too, and she knew that it was probably from getting hit in the head so many times. They had told her to take it easy…and she was in no way taking it easy.

Legolas stared at her. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you are in no pain and you are not feeling feverish," he stated, still holding Glosbrethil's reins so she could not move forward. She opened her mouth.

"I wouldn't, lass," Gimli said from the ground of to her right. "I wouldn't lie right to his face if I were you. Not the best of ideas."

"This is _your_ fault," she snapped at Gimli, whirling her head towards him. "If you had not—"

"I can't pretend you weren't hurt! And no matter how much I want to hurry home, too, it won't do us any good if you die when we get there."

"Do not be so dramatic!" she scoffed.

"Listen, lass," he told her seriously, "Aragorn couldn't heal you all the way. He cured the infection, but the wound is still open. If you don't take care of it, it could get infected again, and _then_ where will we be? You'll be dead."

"Please dismount so I do not have to worry about you taking off into the woods," Legolas said softly, looking up at her. She almost laughed at him, but then realized that she had been plotting it, getting ready to head out on her own without them to make her point. "I _know_ you," he said seriously. "I can see that look in your eye from a mile away. Let me help you dismount."

She looked into his eyes and frowned, her eyes so full of worry. Perhaps…if she begged…" _Please_ , Legolas…I cannot stay here and think about her suffering. What if one _hour_ could make the difference between her life and death?"

"Then we shall have to place our faith in Aragorn," he continued softly. "Guin, I cannot think about you suffering on Brethil's back for another few hours. You need to lie down; you need to rest. You are injured and you need to take it easy for a few days. We cannot ride home just because we wish to be there any faster." He sighed. "That face would definitely have worked on me if I had not known you were hurting.

Her frown deepened into a scowl. "I honestly can say: I do not like you right now."

Legolas sighed softly. "I do not expect you to, but I am not sorry for it. Someone must be the voice of reason, and I will see you hurting no longer. Come now; dismount, please."

"I can get down myself, thank you," she snipped at him, and though he stepped back once, he did not go far. He did not see how she was going to lean over onto the saddle or swing her leg over Brethil's back without pain. She made a move to turn and drop down from the saddle, but she realized just how long her side had been paining her when she went to swing her leg over his back. She stopped, midway over, resting her knee on the cantle of the saddle, her eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath, balancing herself in the stirrup. Concerned, he moved forward to help her, but she suddenly and _stubbornly_ swung the rest of the way over and dropped to the ground on her own, doing her best to ignore him.

Tears came to her eyes as pain fired through her ribs, around her back, across her middle, and even through her chest. She wrapped an arm around her ribs and regretted not accepting his help immediately, even as she was irritated with him. Her head swam with the pain and she leaned her head forward onto the saddle.

"Are you all right?" he asked, trying to remain calm.

" _Fine_ ," she muttered, but standing beside her, he obviously knew better. "Just fine." She felt his hand on her elbow and she tried to tug her arm away, angry with him, angry that he was right…and her knees buckled as that same pain fired again. Half in a fall, he caught her around her waist and across the shoulders and lowered her to her knees. He kept an arm around her as even Gimli came to see if she was all right. Her face was white as a cotton field, and he knew she was in agony.

"You're just as stubborn as he is!" said Gimli aloud, shaking his head. "You two were definitely made for each other."

"Thank you for that observation, Gimli," Legolas muttered, and she smiled, her head spinning as a child's toy. Glancing down, she lifted her hand and saw a short, thin line of blood on the tunic she wore; she felt her stomach flop. _Blood_. She was not good at all with blood. "You are most certainly _not_ fine," he told her, seeing what she had revealed. All the fire came out of her when she looked up and saw Gimli's worried face and Legolas had come about in front of her, holding her by the shoulders.

"I…should have known better," she said, feeling very foolish. " _Ilúvatar_ , that _hurts_."

"How bad is it?" His voice was not very calm anymore. "What can I do?"

She shook her head. "I need to wrap it again," she said, covering the wound again with her hand. "I will take the salve with me and go over to those trees. I will not be long." He handed her the salve and another bandage from the saddle bag, looking at her with concern.

"Are you sure you will be able to…" he began and she looked back into his face again as he changed what he was going to say. "Gimli could—"

"No, no," she said, with another shake of her head. "I will be fine. Right back…honestly." She hesitated then and gave him a wry smile. "But I might need some help getting to my feet, if you want me to continue to be honest."

"I do," he replied, sighing. "I just wish you had been more honest more quickly." He carefully helped her to her feet, and then watched solicitously as she turned and moved off into the trees. Legolas had to hold onto Brethil's saddle to prevent himself from following her. Beginning to mutter to himself, he undid Brethil's packs as Gimli began building a fire for some more herbal tea.

"You know, lad, you can't blame her."

His head shot up as he noticed Gimli looking at him. He groaned. "Gimli, not _now_ —"

"Imagine if that were her…or me…or Aragorn…would you be any different? Wounded, ill, you'd be riding for any one of us as quickly as you could possibly go. If it were _you_ in her position, would you be lyin' down and resting while Arwen was dying back at home?"

"I do not like to be reasoned with when I am angry!"

"Well, use your brain, miserable elf!" he growled at him. "Remember Aragorn at Helm's Deep? Half alive, he was, and there you were, hollerin' at him to rest. Did he listen?"

"No, he was too busy—"

"Of course he didn't! Why do you think Enguina's giving you such a hard time? She is terribly worried for Arwen. How long have they been friends?"

Legolas frowned. "Since they were very young; a thousand years, if not longer."

"As long as you have known Arwen, yes?" he said, eyeing the elf as he threw more wood onto the fire. "If Enguina was not wounded, how fast would it take _you_ to fly home? How hard would you push the horses?"

Legolas grimaced. "Hard."

"How d'ya think she feels, bein' the one holding us back?"

The elf paled as he realized his mistake. "Terrible."

"Then don't be so hard on her. She wants to reach her as bad as you do. She's trying to be a bit selfless, and that's the same way you'd be if you were in her place, but it's not working as well as she hoped. Give her a bit of time."

"It is only that I worry so for her."

"Well, you'll have to work on that overprotective thing you call love, I guess."

"I…I _am_ sorry, Gimli," he apologized. "You are right."

"Don't apologize to _me_ , elf," Gimli said gruffly, and Legolas smiled.

"Legolas?" It was Enguina's voice, rising to ask him if he was nearby; he could hear that in her tone easily. Gimli nodded to him and he turned and walked into the woods towards the sound of her voice. He did not get very far before he called for her.

"Enguina? What is the matter?"

" _Wait_!" she cried, and he could hear the fear in her voice. She was just on the other side of the tree he already had his hand on, and he halted mid-stride.

"What is the matter?" he asked, rather alarmed.

"I am…not decent," her voice came out so quietly, but he could hear pain in it as well. He closed his eyes, just in case he was too close.

"You are in pain, Guin. What can I do to help?"

"Come here, please," she said, and he could almost see the grimace on her face through his mind's eye. He came around the tree and knelt at her side, his eyes fixed on hers as he tried not to look down at her. Though, it was difficult not to notice how she held her arm across her chest to prevent him from seeing anything, her tunic unbuttoned, the wound uncovered, her shoulder bare with a bruise and a welt stretching down it and her back against the tree. She met his eyes and hers were full of pain, her face pale. "I…I cannot take care of this wound," she stuttered out, and he was not sure if she was cold, afraid, or feeling ill. "I do not do well with blood."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "But…you knew it was bleeding—"

"I know," she said, appearing embarrassed, "but…I thought I could do it because it was my _own_ blood. I was wrong; this is too much." She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the tree. "And it _hurts_."

"Do not worry," he replied, "we will get some pain-killing tea into you in no time. Gimli is making a fire as we speak."

"Ugh…wonderful," she muttered.

He tried to smile, but he really could not as he looked down directly to the wound, trying not to embarrass her any further, and reached out to carefully remove the rest of the bandage. As soon as his fingertips brushed her skin, she flinched so hard and gasped because of the sudden movement that he thought she was going to leap to her feet and run. Legolas looked over at her face, keeping his hand within an inch of her skin. "You know that I would never, ever hurt you," he said gently, "not intentionally."

"I…I know," she whispered, and she watched as he began removing the bandage before she looked away. It was assumed by her that _he_ thought she was upset about the pain, but it was not the pain that was bothering her at the moment. She _knew_ they were his hands; why did she have to react that way? She did not want him to seethat response…she did not want him to ask questions about it… _ever_. She could never explain; she could never tell him the truth. It made her heart ache.

"Guin," he began softly while he worked swiftly on the wound.

She tried to keep all the pain out of her voice when she answered; it was difficult. "Yes?"

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, glancing up into her face as he felt her flinch. She did not answer for a moment, biting her lower lip, and he could not help but be hurt by her silence. Again, he felt the need to fill the space, to reassure her he had not meant to offend her. "I—"

"I am not afraid of you," she said softly. "You are too good, Legolas. I am…I react, and I worry, and I tell myself that everything is fine and then I remember that it is _you_ … _you_ are the one touching me. _You_ are the one who cares for me—"

"Who loves you," he said tenderly, and she gave a little smile as she met his eyes.

"Yes…there is that as well."

"The wound looks better than it did when Aragorn finished with it," he said. "That should please you at least. It _is_ healing, but you pulled it again and made it bleed. It will be good for you to rest it for several hours."

She looked at him, alarmed. "We cannot rest more than an hour."

He lowered his head to look away from her eyes and began rewrapping the wound. "We will rest until you are feeling better," he told her softly.

"An hour," she insisted. "An hour is all the time we have. We must—"

"Guin," he said gently, "you know that you are in pain. Cracked ribs, this wound…you will not be back in the saddle in an hour. You are not physically ready right now. You have to accept that."

Tears spilled down her face, suddenly, and she could not stop them as her arms were still guarding her chest. "I cannot!" she cried, and he looked up at the tears in her voice. "She is in danger! We are closer than sisters; you _have_ to understand! You _have_ to. You must help me!"

He reached up and laid a hand on her face and her eyes were full of fear for Arwen. "This is all I know how to do to help you, Enguina. I know this is difficult, but we must make this choice, even though it is hard. We must trust Aragorn to take care of her, and we must trust Aragorn that he knew what was right for you as well. He said we needed to take our time, that the road would be hard for you. Please, I know this is difficult."

"Have you…have you ever been forced to wait when someone you love is in danger?" she asked, irritated with him and too upset about Arwen to think clearly. "No, you have not. You are a _man_ , and you are _strong_ , and you can struggle through your pain and press on. Why can I not do the same?"

"Enguina, I _have_ been forced to wait when someone I love is in danger," he said. "Many times, in fact, the most recent was just days ago…with you. You were gone and the horses had been drugged and I had to wait almost three long hours before I was able to ride out to your rescue. No, I was not in pain that morning, but my heart was so heavy, I felt that with each passing moment you were further away, that you were not going to be alive when we found you." He sighed gently, stroking her face again, trying to wipe away a few more tears.

"I am sorry," she whispered, shaking her head. "I am so worried. I keep thinking about that little life, the one within her, the one I felt _move_ against my hand, unborn…unprotected."

"Not unprotected," he said softly. "Arwen is the last defense. She would never let something happen without a fight. She is an excellent swordsman herself."

"But she is with child," Enguina muttered. "She is not going to be fighting."

"If she had to, she would," he assured her. "And Aragorn is on his way to her as we speak, flying as fast as Brego can fly. If we cannot trust Aragorn, who can we trust?"

She sighed. "I…do not think I can ever accept this, Legolas. My worry gnaws at me."

He finished buttoning the lower half of her tunic and then averted his eyes. She finished the last few and then he took her hands in his. "I am sorry that I upset you about Arwen; I know how much she means to you, what she means to all of us." He looked into her face. "There is nothing I would rather do than go racing off to Minas Tirith with you, but it is not possible just now. When it is, we will race where we can. All we can do is pray for Arwen and the babe after you have had the tea and you are lying down to rest. Forgive me for being angry with you. I should have been more understanding."

"I would like to pray for her together," she whispered, "as I have prayed a hundred times in my heart. I need to have that tea first; the pain is increasing."

"Cleaning it helps the infection, but not the pain," he said gently. "Come, and I will help you back to the camp the dwarf has probably set up by now."

"I feel terrible that he is doing all the work."

Legolas shook his head as he carefully lifted her to her feet. "Do not be; Gimli would be glad he is occupied with a duty and a way to help you." He kissed her temple. "Come with me and take your time. You will feel better in no time."

The two of them walked back to the camp, Legolas's arm about Enguina's waist. She was not pleased, but she was going to try and accept her forced rest.

* * *

The White City of Minas Tirith lay in quiet. There was no laughter, only whispered conversation between its people…and there was much grieving. Talf had told them to pray for the Queen, though there was not much hope. Remarkably, the day had dragged on and even though the Healers had declared she would be dead before nightfall, somehow she was still holding on. It was evening, but through the day it had been quiet: children did not play, minstrels sang no songs, and the whole City seemed as if it were abandoned, for the streets were unoccupied and the market had been forsaken. The only places left filled were homes or the church, where it seemed all those with faith prayed that Eru would either send a miracle to save the Queen or bring home the King to heal her. The gathering was so large that the crowds of people spilled out into the street. Snow was falling once more, but there was no peace, no rest within the City.

Éowyn and Faramir had remained by Arwen's bedside as the hours had worn on. The man was still sitting at her side, trying to beat back her fever as he had done all day. Slowly, he placed another cool towel on her forehead, but at the last moment, her head flicked to the side, still tossing in fever, sweat pouring from her brow.

"Arwen…" he chided softly, gently turning her face towards him so he could place the towel on it. She had no idea what she had done…she had no presence of mind to realize any such thing. He ran his fingers through her soaked hair and shook his head, exhausted. Her lips were moving, but it was as if she was speaking to something or calling out for something…and he had no idea what it was.

He looked over into the corner of the room and his eyes fell on Éowyn. She sat on the rug, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed as little Annî played on the floor with a wooden horse that he had brought up from the house. Éowyn was as exhausted as he was, but they could not leave Arwen's side. What if they did…and she died? He would never forgive himself. Carefully, he took the elf's hand in his own as her lips moved again, but what she was asking for he could not understand. He rested his head on his hand again in silent prayer.

As he had looked upon her dear face, he knew that she was in a battle for her own survival. Over the last hours, she had lost so much weight; her body was quite literally destroying itself. He wondered how much longer she could fight a poison that threatened to take control at any moment. Her body was slowly shutting itself down; how much longer would she have the strength to fight? "Fight, Arwen…do not let it win," he whispered. Then, he prayed, "Eru give her strength to fight…until Aragorn comes; until he returns, Eru, help her fight this." Faramir worried and worried, twisting the sheet within his hand; how could he know if Aragorn would arrive, or even if he would be able to do something to save her life? He knew nothing.

"Daddy," a soft voice muttered and he opened his eyes and turned his head, finding his daughter alongside him, reaching up with her hands. He leaned down and scooped her up, holding her in his lap with one arm; the other hand still held Arwen's.

"Hey, little Princess," he whispered, kissing her face. "Were you playing with Mommy?"

She nodded, wrapping an arm around his neck as she looked over to Arwen. Yanking her thumb out of her mouth, she reached out, pointing. "Tiriel," she said frowning and laying her head back against Faramir's chest. "Tiriel play?"

"No, Annî, Tiriel cannot play. She is very sick," he told her quietly, "much too sick to play games with you and Mommy. Though Mommy is fast asleep, and it is getting to be your bedtime again."

"I heard that," muttered a very sleepy Éowyn from the corner, and Faramir smiled.

"Would you like to sleep on the divan again in the other room? Mommy and I have to stay here for another night. You liked sleeping there, yes?" Annî nodded as Faramir rose. He looked at Éowyn who stood up as well.

"I will stay with her," she whispered, "if you would put Annî to bed."

"Of course," he replied, and he took his daughter into the other room to lay her down. He was surprised to find that it only took a few moments for Annî to fall asleep, almost as soon as he had laid her down on the window seat. They always blocked her in so she would not fall, but Annî was so tired, he did not have to worry much.

As he was turning back to the bedroom, he heard footsteps on the stone outside and then the front door opened. He knew there were only few in number he had given the guards permission to allow inside the House, but when he saw Noldore from the Council he could not help but be surprised.

The older man bowed his head to Faramir as they exchanged grim looks and grasped each other's forearms. "I hope I am not intruding—"

"No, no of course not," he replied softly.

Noldore glanced around the kitchen where Faramir had met him, noticing parts of a mostly uneaten dinner along the table there. "I could not help but come when I heard the news. How is she?"

Faramir shook his head, hardly able to speak. "She is holding on, but barely," he whispered. "I have no idea how she has held on this long…how she has made it this far."

"The Healer, Talf, came and reported to the Council that she would not last until midday, but she must have more strength than we know within her." He sighed and looked into the man's face. "I needed to come," he added, "even if I could not see her; I needed to come, for Aragorn, for her. Dintîr would have come in as well, but he said that he could not see her that way." He frowned. "Is she much changed?"

"You would not believe unless you saw for yourself," he replied quietly. "Éowyn is with her now."

"And it is true—the child—?" Faramir nodded, but could not do more than that and Noldore sorrowfully shook his head. "So sad…so sad. Does she…would she know me?"

"I do not know how much she hears. She does not respond when we call her or speak to her, and her mind is lost in the fever. I do not even think she recognizes us anymore; I do not think she knows we are with her. I thought it might be a comfort to her, however small, but…"

"It is. In some way, it is, Faramir," he told the younger man gently, reaching up to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Talf stated she was poisoned. This was from the attack?"

"I think so," Faramir said heavily. "Éowyn and I must have overlooked something that morning, for we knew nothing of her illness until late in the evening. The poison spread quickly…and by the time we knew of it, she was in great distress."

"What a terrible thing," he said. "Will the King return, Faramir? Did he speak to you of his intention?"

"He spoke the same to the Council as he spoke to me, Noldore; he said that he would return after finding and rescuing the Lady Enguina. He set no time; how could he? All our prayers lie on a hope for him to return…but…"

"Yes, there is not much hope," Noldore stated with a sigh, "Talf said as much." He glanced over Faramir's shoulder. "I do not wish to remain long or hamper your efforts to comfort her, but…I wished to come and see her if I could, if only briefly, and to pray over her."

"Please," Faramir said, stepping back from him and turning slowly toward the bedroom, "perhaps your prayers will help her through a few more hours." Noldore followed him into the sitting room, and he caught sight of Annî asleep on the divan.

"Ahh, your little one," he said, smiling. "She must be dreaming."

Faramir glanced over at her as he opened the bedroom door. "I hope so; she is as tired as we all look. Come," he said, and walked into the room, finding Éowyn still seated on the bed on her left side, stroking the hand she held, Arwen's forehead covered with a fresh wet cloth. "Éowyn, Noldore came to see Arwen."

Her back was to them, and she did not turn immediately. Her cheek was pressed to Arwen's hand, holding it tightly to her face as if she could imbue it with all of her warmth and life. Noldore stopped in the doorway when Faramir stepped out of his way and took his first look upon the Queen he had come to know so well.

 _Changed_ was not the half of what he could see in her. The poison was doing its work, killing her slowly, destroying her down to the last bit of strength she had. Her body looked small, weak; from the doorway he could not even see her chest raise as if she were breathing. Pale and cold, she looked already as though she were dead and laid out for the funeral. Noldore felt his breath catch; she was so _thin_. She had lost so much weight in these hours that she had been ill that she was skin and bone; the arm Éowyn held appeared a thin twig to him.

"Her hands are so _cold_ ," Éowyn murmured, and Faramir rested his hands on her shoulders. "They are like death." She remembered holding her cousin Théodred's hands just before he died…they had been just as cold.

"They will warm up if you hold them," Faramir said to her gently.

"Eru…" Éowyn suddenly choked out, "she has to be _close_ , Faramir; _she has to be._ "

"No, no," Faramir whispered, resting his cheek on her head, tears filling his eyes, "no, Aragorn will come…and he will rescue her." He watched Arwen's lips move again as her head tossed away from them, but once again, he could not understand the sound or read her lips.

"What…what horrible things have befallen you," Noldore whispered, looking down upon her and coming to the edge of the bed. He bowed his head, and then reached down to take Arwen's hand. "Oh Eru, Lord of all heaven and everything under it, please send your Healer…send the King to us, to restore her to us. Accept the child into your Halls," he continued, and Éowyn began to weep in earnest at his words, "and may he ever walk in joy among the fields of your choosing. Gondor weeps under the pain of this loss; please…please you must send your Healer." He looked back on her again, staring down into her sweat-covered face.

"I am glad that you came," Faramir said after a moment, and Noldore raised his head to look at Faramir. Éowyn's face was turned into his tunic and his hands were around her, holding her to him as she cried. Her shoulders were hunched with exhaustion.

"She is _suffering_ ," Noldore groaned. "I hoped she would feel nothing when you told me she was out of it, but I can see in her face her dreams are dark, filled with shadow and agony. She may not hear us, she may not see us, but she is suffering."

Moaning, Arwen's head tossed again, her hands flexing as she muttered something out loud, and Noldore turned and looked at her. This time, it had been clear as a bell on a silent winter's morning. Faramir knew the language, knew what it was she asked for. Éowyn began to sob, clutching Faramir with one hand as he held her head against himself.

"What is she saying?" Noldore asked softly. "What language is that?"

"Elvish," Faramir whispered, and he reached up and rubbed his tired eyes. "She is crying out for him… _Estel_ , she called." He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. "She is calling for Aragorn."

"She knows what it is she needs," Noldore said, feeling the grief settle over him. "Somehow, she knows he needs to be here for her."

Somehow, though Faramir knew so little about the mind, he did not think Arwen was crying for Aragorn because he could save her. He remembered what it had been like to lie in fever and not know what was happening around him. No, Arwen was crying for Aragorn because he was her beloved, the one person in the world that would stand between her and the darkness and despair that had taken her heart since last night. If her dreams were as dark as her reality, she was calling him to be with her. Yes, he might save her, rescue her from death, but her heart called to him for a simpler reason. Her heart _needed_ him, now…before she no longer had the strength to fill her lungs with air.

" _Estel!_ "

Her broken, anguished voice flooded the room, and it cut through them; each one wept.


	29. Chapter 29

Aragorn felt as if a burning coal had struck him in the chest. His head came upright and he looked on ahead. The leading rope cut into his sides; he had tied himself to the saddle and was holding the end tight, keeping himself upright even in his exhaustion. He had once more been dwelling on what might happen when he returned home, and Brego had been trotting for miles and hours. It was deep evening now, close to midnight, but in the far distance he could see light…the lights of the Tower of the Guard. They could reach it before dawn; if they hurried.

"We are nearly there, Brego…we are nearly there," he stated, patting the bay's sweaty neck, and the stallion snorted and broke to a fast lope, bounding to cover the ground. Aragorn knew it would not be long before he was galloping again; he never had to ask. Brego pushed himself as hard as he may and his hoof beats thundered beneath Aragorn with all the speed he could force out of his tired body.

But something…something was causing Aragorn's chest to ache, and he reached up and touched his heart. Shaking his head, he pulled his cloak more tightly around his neck as the night wind cut through him. But then suddenly, Aragorn's mind burst once again; the same burning coal had struck him, but this time it was a word…and it was loud and clear.

 _Estel!_ He felt it within his very soul. She was calling for him, _reaching_ for him…and he was not there. His heart was flooded with intense grief, and he choked back sobs, pain filling him up. Oh, Ilúvatar was that what she was feeling? If ever he had known what it was like to die, to lose himself in another person's agony and drown in it, this was it. His wife _, his wife_! He had tears on his face that he could barely feel through the freezing chill; there was nothing he could do except ride to her.

The bay's pounding hooves were the only sound in the night, save the voice that called his heart.

* * *

Enguina lay in Legolas' arms fast asleep as he looked down into her face. He sat with his back against a tree now and she was against his chest, her head lying upon his shoulder. She had been asleep since lunch, sleeping through dinner and even Gimli's snoring; the few hours they had traveled had taken such a toll on her. He should have heeded Aragorn's warning, but he had listened to Enguina instead. Foolish; he knew she had been in a hurry to return to Arwen. Now she was paying the price: exhausted, in pain, even running a bit of a fever. He was so worried for her.

Even worse, Enguina had cried herself to sleep earlier, terrified for Arwen, and feeling absolutely wretched that she was holding them back. No matter what he or Gimli had said to her, she was still terribly upset. He understood how she was feeling; he felt just as anxious, just as wretched. But there was no way Enguina was going to travel in this condition…they had to wait it until at least tomorrow. Perhaps in the morning, she would be better…perhaps…

He rested his cheek against her forehead. When her breathing became strange beneath his arms, it surprised him so suddenly that he thought it might be the way he held her.

"Enguina?" he asked softly, but it had no effect on her condition. He began to loosen his grip across her when she suddenly grew violent. Her nails dug into his skin as she tried to be free of his arms, but her lips mouthed his name. At first, there was no sound except her breathing grew harsh against his ears. But then, as she squirmed harder in his arms and as he grew afraid that he might make her injury much worse, he could hear her muttering his name between gasped breaths. His grip tightened as he held her to his chest, her voice ringing in his head. It was too much, this close to her, and he shook her, saying her name loudly in her ear. Between his words and forcing her to remain immobile, she blinked, awake.

" _Legolas!_ " she cried out loud, tossing her head and hitting it against his chin. She looked down at his arms surrounding her and tried to calm her racing heart.

"I am here, _moina quen_ ," he said gently. She did not say anything more for a few moments, but her breathing slowed; only then did he gradually loosen his embrace. "You worry me so, Guin," he said very seriously, and she slowly turned her face into his neck, her hands still gripping his. He felt the wetness of her cheek when her face brushed against his skin. "Guin…" he began anxiously, raising a hand to wipe her face.

"I am all right," she whispered, but he knew better.

"If that is the same 'all right' as a few hours ago, I know better than to believe you," he told her gently, tucking her hair back behind her ear. "What is it that you are dreaming about? What is plaguing you, terrorizing you? You can tell me." He rested his cheek on her head. "All of your secrets are safe with me. Do not hold back."

How could she tell him of anything, of her dreams? How could she put into words the way they made her feel: trapped, frightened, on display, inadequate for him? How could she tell him of that day on Cerin Amroth where her world fell apart? And then tell him that Dagnirhir and his hands had sent her straight back to that personal hell? That she could not stop thinking of that _look_ in his eye, that terrifying look that burned a fire so terrible within her that she could think of nothing else but what he had wanted to take from her? She had not dreamed of Bragolaur tonight…only of Dagnirhir. She prayed she would _not_ dream of Bragolaur out here; not where he could see her.

"Legolas," she whispered, "how can I…all of the events of the last few days replay themselves in my mind...but they are worse, worse than they ever were. I dreamed—" Her voice cut off and his embrace surrounded her tightly. "How can I tell you?" she murmured, and his neck felt wet with her tears. She waited, sure he would answer, sure he would find a way to convince her to tell him…yet he remained silent. He would not force her, no matter how badly he wished to know the truth.

"Your dreams are so dark, love," he said to her tenderly. "Look at the sky. Tell me, what do you see?" She did not wish to lift her head, open her eyes, but she did.

"Darkness…it is as I ever see it…the night is full of darkness," she whispered, and she shuddered.

"That is not what I see," he whispered back. "I see a cloudless night full of starlight and moonlight, shining down on us. Every star lights your eyes, fills my heart.

"You have a chance for a life without that darkness that you always see," he told her, and she turned her head and looked into his eyes. "I can help you find the stars in your night, Guin; I can help you see them again, give you that life: glorious, beautiful, full of starlight. I _can_." His voice had dropped to a whisper. "Trust me…trust me, _moina quen_."

Her lips trembled and tears spilled from her face. "Speak those words again," she murmured, her heart aching from the truth in his eyes. He told her, reaching up to stroke her face with one hand. "Oh, _Legolas_ …" She leaned forward and so did he as she rested her forehead against his, her eyes closed. "I…my dreams were haunted by that foul creature." Her voice was full of horror, memories of the dream swirling back into her mind. "He had hit me, threatened me…called me names. He had…his _hands_ were on me. He told me that he wanted to hear me scream." She choked back a sob, but her words were pouring now, and she was unable to stop them. "That I would learn my lesson; that he could take me any way he wanted because we were alone…" Her head fell to his shoulder as she began crying, her shoulders shaking with sobs, and she whispered the words as if she never thought she would ever speak them aloud, " _He told me I was his bitch_ …"

" _No_ ," Legolas said immediately, his hand in her hair, holding her face to his chest, holding her tight. Hearing that word from her mouth made him sick to his stomach. "No, no, no…you are not _his_ …you are not his _anything_." His hands were trembling with the force of his horror at what this man had done to her, said to her. He rested his temple against hers. "No, no. He will never touch you again; he is dead… _dead_."

"He could have done anything he wanted to me," she whispered. "He told me he would. He was going to…he was going to hurt me… _beat_ me. He had his belt in his hand…he had hit me before, for trying to escape." Her words horrified him, rendered him speechless as she said, "If Belegore had not come then, he…would have done whatever he wanted. I was less than an _animal_ to him; he said women should be used by men—"

"No, Guin," he said to her, his heart breaking, "no, he was wrong! You were made to be _cherished_ …you were made to be _loved_ more than you know. Oh god, for him to say those things to you…" his voice choked off, almost holding her too tight, "he will rot in a thousand pits. You are safe, you are safe, he cannot hurt you anymore; his words mean nothing."

"I was so afraid!" she cried. "I was so afraid that he would…that he was going to…" No, she could not say the words; they were too close to the truth. "Then…everything would be ruined, and everything would change."

"Change? Change how?" She did not want to say, she could not force the words out, could not speak the truth. "Nothing will change; nothing could change my love." He kept stroking her hair, his breath coming harder now. "How could you think such a thing? You are safe, _safe_ …he can hurt you no more. Trust in me, I will not ever leave you…not for anything."

"Not for anything?" he heard her repeat, her voice breaking.

" _Never_. I am yours; my heart is yours; it beats only for you now," he replied. "Trust my heart."

"I do," she whispered, looking up into his face, her eyes full of pain, "and I love you, Legolas. From that day we sat on the hillside and stared out across the Pelennor, I believe that I have loved you; even further back than that, when we rode along the wall and we raced across the fields together through the snow…even then, did my heart feel your touch. But I have lost so much time…so many _years_ …to fear and terror." Her voice caught and her eyes closed at the memory of a pain he knew nothing about. She continued then, her voice so much softer than it had been before; even with his head alongside hers, he could barely hear her. "I do not know how strong my heart is. I do not know how much it can withstand…or how long my heart will fight a shadow that no longer exists. There was a moment, when I was with them, that I feared death…but there are worse things than death, Legolas."

Her words were so heavy they broke his heart. Full of pain, full of grief, she was…and he had nothing to offer her; he was no Healer. He could only comfort; he could only promise her that he would not let the darkness own her, let the shadow she feared flood over her heart and sweep her away.

"Let me…let me help you fight this evil in your dreams," he whispered back. "I have made an oath to you, in the quiet of my heart: I swear I will not let this shadow come between us, destroy us…destroy our love."

"I do not want to lose you, Legolas," she mumbled as they continued to look into each other's eyes. " _I_ _cannot lose you_." If she lost him, she would lose herself. She had given him her heart now; she would be _finished_ if he left her.

"You cannot lose me," he whispered. "We…we all carry burdens of some kind from our pasts that haunt us when we do not expect. Our grief, our trials, make us human…make us _alive_. But even when the night is dark and we seem to have lost our way, perhaps even ourselves, hope is everlasting. I swear to you that I will be the light in your darkness, that I will help you find those stars, Guin. I _choose_ to be with you for as long as my days shall last. Nothing shall tear us asunder…not dreams, or burdens, or trials, or evil memories. My devotion to you will be true; my heart is fixed on the desires of your heart. I will be your anchor…and you shall be mine."

She stared into his beautiful, love-filled eyes, and even with tears on her face, said, "I will be your anchor, Legolas, and my devotion will be true."

It was a pledge; in everything but spoken word, the two of them would someday be one. It was a proposal and an acceptance. He held her close, and lifted her chin with his fingers ever-so-gently.

"We were made for each other," he whispered to her. "Ilúvatar made me for you."

"I truly believe He did," she replied, and her eyes fluttered closed.

"May I—?"

" _Please_ ," she begged, and he pressed his lips to hers. Yes, Legolas—his arms, his words, his love—could heal her heart.

* * *

The guards on Rammas Echor were stiff. The cold weather had come far too early for them, and they simply wanted to be at home with their families in front of the fire. They knew that things in Minas Tirith were unwell, though they had high hopes before they had come to their posts last evening that things would be well by morning. Now, their hopes had failed them; the King was not coming. The dawn was an hour or so off, and they knew that the Queen had been failing so badly. All hope was lost.

Not more than a mile from the wall, the guards could make out a lone rider on a horse, moving very fast against the cold wind. One of the guards called to the gate man, and he moved out to receive the rider, for they had to be very suspicious of travelers since the recent trouble.

"Halt!" the guard called. The rider either did not hear, or did not heed the call.

As he drew near, the horse did not begin to slow, and the guard grew more urgent.

"Halt!" called the guard, and he held his spear in forward guard, prepared to stop the rider with all means necessary. "You may not pass until I have your name, and your purpose, Sir!"

"Hallamegil, you fool!" the rider shouted, pulling the stallion to a sliding stop in front of the guard. "It is I! Let me pass!" Hallamegil gasped and put down his spear, as the wind took the hood of the cloak and swept it back from the rider's face. The guard looked up into the face of the King. The panting bay reared and stomped his feet with great impatience, lather coating his chest and neck and shoulders.

"My Lord, I did not recognize you! Ride…ride on!" he said, hurrying out of the way. He turned to his men. "Open the gates! Open the gates; The King has returned! Blow loud the trumpets!"

The gates were flung wide in a moment's time, and Aragorn gave Brego his head. "You shall be commended for your speed!" he cried. "Noro lim, Brego! Noro lim an Arwen!"

The bay horse sped through the gates with such dust as the men had never seen, and they would swear from that day forward they had never seen any man ride with such haste. As Aragorn made his long way across the fields of the Pelennor, he could hear the loud rejoicing of silver trumpets, whose very sound seemed to awaken the City before him. His heart pounded within his chest as fast as the thudding of Brego's hooves. He had not heard Arwen's cry for several hours.

The King had returned…but had he returned too late?

* * *

Faramir watched Arwen's feverish face, wondering what in the world he would do. He did not believe she was going to last more than another hour, for her body was no longer able to fight for her own survival. Her hands were as cold as ice, her face was pale, and she had ceased to sweat. She no longer shivered; her breathing was labored, quick and shallow, as if soon she would not have the strength to draw another. He knew that Aragorn would not come…it was too late.

Noldore had left hours ago, and Faramir was now beside Arwen on one side with Éowyn on the other. He watched her chest fall…and it did not rise again. His heart in his throat he lunged forward, gripping her shoulders as Éowyn looked on with red-rimmed eyes.

" _Arwen!_ " Faramir cried, shaking her shoulders. She breathed…and his heart was stolen away from him. His chest felt empty as he tried to fill his own lungs with air. Éowyn reached over and laid a hand on his arm as he sat back from her a little bit.

"She has lost the battle, Éowyn," he said, his voice no more than a drawn whisper. "She can no longer fight on her own. I thought…I thought…" He shook his head, unable to finish that painful sentence, but she nodded. She had thought Arwen was not going to breathe again either. She had tried to prepare herself for the moment when her friend would pass away, but she knew that she would never be ready. Her heart could not take it. She held onto his arm for dear life.

"There are but _moments_ left, Faramir…" she whispered, and then hesitated. Was it possible? She spoke despite the disbelief in her own heart, in her face. "Aragorn…he may still come."

He shook his head, looking into her desperate eyes. "Oh love, there is just not enough time…simply not enough—"

Faramir raised his head…he could _swear_ he had heard…

His heart rose into his throat and he nearly leapt for joy such was his elation at the clear ringing of silver trumpets! The King! The King had returned! His shining eyes met Éowyn's and tears spilled down their faces.

"He has _come_ …" she whispered, and she kissed Faramir with overflowing joy. He grasped her face in his hands as he laughed with uncontrollable relief and rejoicing. "Praise the Valar! Praise the One! May the glory ever be His! _Go_ , Faramir! Go to meet him!" she cried.

"Stay with her," he told her, throwing on his cloak and hurrying out of the King's House. He knew that Aragorn would come here first, and he tried to ready himself for his friend's arrival. What could he say? What must he tell the King before he was to go inside to see her? He would have to tell him everything that had happened in the briefest way he could and still explain. He had been praying so long for Aragorn to return that he had never thought of what he would say when he arrived.

He could hear the people all through the City, shouting in their joy that the King had returned—even from the lowest levels they could hear them. The trumpets grew louder, and as Faramir stood there, Captain Mennev, came to his side with tears on his face.

"The Queen will live! The King has returned! Do you hear them calling, my Lord?" he cried, clasping Faramir's shoulder, and Faramir clasped his in return.

"Mennev, I hear them, thank Ilúvatar! I bid you to do something for me, for the King."

"Anything, my Lord!" he cried.

"Go and make a way for the King to reach the House as quickly as you may. Make certain the guards contain the people on the lower circles so that the King will get here as quickly as possible."

"I will, my Lord!" he replied, and hurried off to carry out his orders.

* * *

And so Faramir waited. It was not long before he heard the pounding of Brego's hooves on the cobblestones of Minas Tirith's streets, even over the loud cries of the people. He paced, waiting, praying that the Three Hunters and Enguina had returned in time. Could the hands of Aragorn truly save her?

Up past the White Tower flew Brego, his hooves causing sparks on the stones beneath him, and his mane was flying like a flag from the Tower. White, lathered sweat covered his body and foam came from his mouth as he thundered towards Faramir. But it was Aragorn's face that reduced Faramir to tears once again. The face of the man he had failed so badly, the face of one who would do anything to ensure the safety of his friends, the face of one who had ridden into danger and returned unscathed, the face of man who would be shaken at the terror of a fading wife and a lost child.

As Brego came to a sliding stop in front of him, Faramir hit his knees, his head bowed as he wept. " _Aragorn_! Aragorn, you have returned!"

Aragorn dropped from Brego's back and all but collapsed, his legs numb from three days of sleepless riding. He dropped to his knees in front of Faramir, hitting the cobblestone and took the man's shoulders in his hands. "Speak…speak to me Faramir," he said, nearly breathless. "What has happened?"

Faramir could not look into the eyes of the King. "The Queen was attacked in the night not three days ago, two days after you had gone seeking Enguina. I did not know it then, but she had been poisoned by a foul elf." He gasped for air, but still he could not look upon his friend. "I have failed you my Lord! For one day this dawn, the poison took Arwen completely, and she has lain in fever since then. The babe…the babe!"

Faramir stumbled over the words as he tried to get them out but he could not without his breath catching in his throat. Aragorn stared into his face, his own heart in his throat, his chest heaving with his own fear. _Ilúvatar, please…Ilúvatar, no…god, you are bigger than this. Do not let him speak the words…she is not dead! They are not dead! Please, please, Ilúvatar, my shield! Please, no—_

"The baby is dead!" he sobbed, his head bowed in uncontrollable grief. "He is dead! He is dead and she miscarried him, and now _she_ is in great peril. She is dying, dying…and I have _failed_! I have failed to keep your honor, to protect your family."

 _No, no, it is not true! Ilúvatar! Ilúvatar! I cry out to you from this place, reach for you! Make me blink and let this be gone; let this not be real! Not my son! Not my wife! Not Arwen!_

His chest roared with pain, his heart breaking, but he battled the wail that rose inside of him, the desire to scream in anguish, his knuckles white with pain as he gripped Faramir's shoulders. Instead, he wrapped his great arms around the poor man as he wailed. Aragorn knew that if he allowed the tears to fall that threatened him, they would not stop. He needed, in desperation, to go to Arwen, but he had to comfort Faramir first; the man before him was in pieces.

"You have not failed me, Faramir," he whispered in the man's ear. "You have done all that I would have done. You have given your all in order to protect your family and mine…I trusted you, and you did not fail me." With trembling hands, Aragorn lifted his friend's chin and held his face in his hands. "One man alone cannot battle every force of evil at work in this world, Faramir, yet you have always sought to do so. You have worked all of your life to live to the expectations of others, but I tell you, my friend, not all things are within your power. You have done always what you have believed to be right. Do not grieve, Faramir! You have not failed me! I expect naught of you but to be my friend…my brother…in this you have _never_ failed." He took Faramir's shoulders in his hands and carefully pulled him to his feet, as he rose himself. He looked gently into the man's eyes. "I will go to Arwen…but you must do this for me."

"Anything, Aragorn…what can I do?" he whispered in reply, tears slipping from his eyes.

"You must take care of Brego…make certain that he is well tended to. Though I know you wish to be at my side, Brego's care is of the utmost importance to me. There is naught you can do for her now, but much you can do for me. I trust you with his life."

"I will take care of him."

Aragorn turned to the great stallion, who lifted his head slowly to meet the eyes of his master, lathered chest heaving with exhaustion. Aragorn laid his hands on his face. "Henio hi, mellon nîn: mae carnen. Lerhiale Arweno coi…a chole nin orhbë ú-istannen ana hi abbarh. Mae losto! [Know this, my friend: well done. You have saved Arwen's life…and have carried me with speed unknown to this world. Rest well!]" Brego was too weary to reply, but he nudged Aragorn. Though the horse did not speak, Aragorn heard his words clearly: _Go…_

Aragorn hugged Faramir once more and then turned to the steps of the House, the guards watching from nearby, even Hildanir had been returned to his post. Faramir laid a shaking hand on Brego's neck, wiping his own face with a hand. "You have indeed done well, my friend. If we can, we shall add to your name and you shall be esteemed and honored for the deeds you have done. Great horse, come and take rest!"

* * *

Aragorn opened the door of his own home and felt as though he were a stranger; he had returned to utter chaos, the people thronging the streets, women crying, men calling out to him, urging him forward. All of Minas Tirith had known that Arwen was unwell, and they had come to see the arrival of the only one who could heal her. Dinner was scattered across the table; no breakfast had been taken, and he could see Annî lying on the—no, he could not see a child, not just now. He would fall apart right here; feeling his breath catch, he turned away, feeling the heat on his back from the fireplace that had been burning all evening. Looking toward the bedroom, his eyes fell upon Éowyn as she came to the threshold. Her face was just as red and tear-streaked as her husband's, but she came forward to him and slipped her arms around his waist. He hugged her hard, almost getting lost in it; he could not remember to breathe, such was his pain.

"Aragorn, I am so sorry…" she said softly, though she knew no words could bring him comfort; not now…not so soon. It took him a moment before he could find his voice.

"I thank you, Éowyn, for the care you and Faramir have given to Arwen." He held her back from him and looked into her eyes, seeing the toll of many sleepless days and nights. Her gaze was as haunted as Faramir's; perhaps even more so. "You are exhausted; you _must_ take rest. If I can heal her, it will take hours…go, and return later; there is no need to keep watch any longer." She met his eyes, and she knew he was weak from fatigue. She tenderly laid a hand on his shoulder. _How long has this poor man suffered? So many sleepless nights of riding and thinking…_

"I will take Annî so you can heal in peace," she replied, and then she held his shoulder a moment longer. "Did Legolas, Gimli, and Enguina return with you?"

He shook his head. "I had to hasten, and Enguina was injured. Legolas and Gimli stayed behind to protect her…but we have not time. All will be told later."

"Go to her, Aragorn," she said softly. Nodding, she released him and slipped by…and that was the last Aragorn noticed her after his eyes fell upon the bed. It was only Arwen now…it was only her…

Every blanket in their bedroom lay on the bed covering his dear wife. She was so pale, her skin was nearly translucent, like the glow of moon upon snow. She did not move, the blankets only lifted very shallowly; she was barely breathing and it was a laboring, heavy sound, the only one in the room aside from his beating heart. Her eyes were closed, a sign of her weakness; her breath caught, and he crossed to the bed immediately, taking his place beside her.

Her face was thin and weak, and her hand was the same as he lifted it into his own. The shock of the coldness of her hand was like dropping into a frozen river. Her strong form had failed her, and she was now frail, trying to battle the poison raging within her body. He had been unprepared for this; he had been unprepared for _all_ of it. There were tears on his face that he did not know had begun falling; she had _suffered_ …she had suffered so much and he had not been here to comfort her.

Reaching forward, he took her burning face in his hands. Her hair was soaking wet, but her face was dry, a sure sign that she was nearing the end. _Arwen! Arwen!_ He called to her, his brow pressed to hers. _Arwen, pelo ana nin, melda!_ He knew there could be no response; she was too far away from him, her mind blank and dark. He tugged the blankets down away from her body, and was almost physically sick at the sight of her. The poison had literally eaten her away for the past two days; her strength was gone.

" _Oh god_ ," he whispered, his voice catching, but he yanked the pieces of himself together. Later! Later, he could go to pieces, but she needed him now, desperately. There was no way to ever reveal to his heart how much his beloved had suffered. " _Arwen!_ " he cried aloud, and he saw her lips move, but there was no sound. She was not present with him; in her delirium, she was mouthing his name; even barely breathing, she was calling for him. And he could _not_ think of the child now…no, no, he would lose his mind.

He kissed her forehead and hurried from the room into the kitchen where he filled a bowl with boiling water. Setting it upon the table for a brief moment, he crushed fresh athelas sprigs into it, filling the entire House with the scent of hope. As exhausted as he was, he barely remembered that he had not slept in nearly three days, such was his urgency. The athelas gave him renewed strength and he returned quickly to the bedroom. Setting the bowl on their bedside stand, he placed a weather-beaten, rein-scarred hand on her forehead, and softly took one of her hands into his other scarred one. He bowed his head, closed his eyes, and _reached_ into her, beginning her healing. "Lasto beth nîn, Arwen; tolo da na ngalad…tolo ana nin." The battle with the poison would be long and difficult, but he would have to beat it back, cure her of whatever it was they had given her.

 _Ilúvatar, give me strength. You must help her…you must bring her back to me. I cannot lose them both; I cannot! There is a reason you brought me back now, now, when all my hope seems to shrink at the sight of her weakened form. Ilúvatar! Help me! Help me heal her!_

* * *

"Thinking, Gimli?"

Legolas's voice broke through the gloom of Gimli's thoughts as he sat alongside their little fire. They had been up for several hours and Enguina had been feeling much better since the start of the morning; upon having a bit more tea inside her and some more food, she said her wound was also a bit more healed as she had looked at it again before their meal. But it had been Gimli who was distracted from their conversation during this late morning. They were nearly ready to be on the road again. He sighed as he looked up at the elf.

"I don't mean to bring this up again," he replied, "for I know it's in your minds already, but…I cannot help thinking about Arwen and whether she is well or not. Did Aragorn make it? Was he able to save her and the child? I can't…sitting here, staring into this fire…I can't get it out of my head: the evil grin that Calendur had, the way he laughed at our pain. He was so proud of himself," he added gruffly, shaking his head.

"I cannot stop thinking of her," whispered Enguina. "I know there is nothing that will hurry us along other than my getting better, but I wish we were home now. At least…at least then we would know…either way…we would know."

"There will not be an 'either way,'" Legolas said firmly. "Both of you need to stop being so grim. We must focus on the good; Aragorn is riding to her or has already arrived as we speak. We must believe that she is well; I refuse to think anything other than that." He looked back and forth between them both. "Let us…let us try and think of other things."

There was silence for a moment among them. Enguina looked over at him, her eyes grave. "I do not know if I can. I am so worried—"

"I know!" shouted Gimli so loudly that it interrupted her thought and Legolas startled. "Let's have ourselves a game before we finish packing to get on the road again for a little while."

"A _game_?" Enguina asked incredulously.

Gimli nodded. "Perhaps an "I See" game."

Legolas groaned. "Gimli, I am certain this is not going to be much fun."

"What is there to see?" asked Gimli. "I see something green!"

"Green?" asked Legolas dryly, and Enguina began looking around for something green to guess. "It is a pine tree."

Gimli glared at him. "Let the Lady guess!" Legolas rolled his eyes again as Enguina gave him a little smile. "What is there to see? I see something brown!"

Once again, Enguina began to look about, searching for something Gimli might choose while Legolas mumbled, "A log." The dwarf glared at him as Enguina laughed.

"What is there to see?" asked Gimli again, his eyes more cautious this time. "I see…something white—"

"Snow."

"Blue then, you—"

"Enguina's tunic."

" _Miserable Elf_! Black—"

"Lómë."

"Legolas!" cried Enguina, reaching over to smack him in the arm as Gimli growled, staring arrows at the elf. "You are _not_ being very nice… _and_ you are not letting me guess."

Legolas sighed. "You will have to forgive me—"

"I won't!" Gimli snarled, crossing his arms, and Enguina held out a hand to calm him.

"Here, let me try, Gimli," she said trying to make peace. "What is there to see? I see something…with wings."

"With wings?" Gimli scanned the entire area. "Well, it can't be a butterfly or a bug, there aren't any at this time of year, so it must be a bird. But…" He searched and searched as Legolas grinned to himself. "I don't see any birds." He appeared stumped.

"I know what it is," Legolas said, and Gimli growled.

"Of course _you_ do, miserable elf!"

"Shh!" she said to them both, and then to the elf she said, "There will be no cheating, Legolas."

"He is _never_ going to guess it," Legolas replied honestly, and after a few minutes, Gimli had to admit defeat.

"I…I honestly haven't an idea."

Enguina pointed, and he looked to where she aimed. "There is a hawk circling right over there."

"Where?" he asked, shading his eyes so he could see, yet he still could not possibly see it.

Legolas rolled his eyes again, shaking his head. "That is much too far for mortal eyes, Guin."

" _Elves!_ " groaned Gimli. "Why did I ever suggest a game?"

"I am sorry!" Enguina said, and she did feel rather bad about choosing something that he could not possibly guess. Legolas just grinned.

"I told you this game was not such a good choice, Gimli," Legolas repeated. "You need to choose a game that does not require us to _see_ anything…or hear for that matter. In that respect, we are too different."

He narrowed his eyes at Legolas. "I knew there was a reason I still didn't like pointy-ears."

"You do not like me?" asked Enguina, pouting at Gimli.

"It's nothing personal! Your race and mine weren't meant to mix, lass…we _are_ too different."

"Hush, Gimli," Legolas said with a laugh. "You and I have made the most of our friendship these past years, though it took us some time."

He sighed. "Well, let's get ourselves into the saddle and ride for a few hours before the sun sets if we can. Perhaps I'll think of a different one on the way."

"Please…let us try to make some progress," Enguina added, and they rose to their feet.

It did not take more than a few moments for them to set out again on the road home and the horses were eager to be on their way. After they had ridden for a short time, Gimli called out, "I've thought of one!"

Legolas, who had his arms around Enguina again, shook his head. "What now?"

Gimli laughed, tugging the horses along with him. "I went on a journey and along the way…"

"Oh no," Legolas groaned.

Enguina laughed. "Oh let him have his fun! Are there no games that _you_ enjoy, Legolas?"

He rested his chin on her shoulder. "Mmm…thinking…thinking…no, probably not. I am not much for games. Perhaps if I ever have children I shall have to be."

"Enguina," Gimli called back behind him, " _you_ should begin!"

"I brought Aragorn," she said easily.

"What?" asked Legolas, laughing.

"Are you even allowed to bring people in this game?" questioned Gimli.

"It is _our_ game," insisted Enguina. "And beside, if I were going on a journey, I would not wish to be lost, and Aragorn is clearly better with directions than I." She laughed. "So I am bringing Aragorn."

"All right," sighed Legolas. "I shall play with you both. I went on a journey and with me I brought Aragorn and…Brethil."

Gimli chuckled. "I went on a journey and with me I brought Aragorn, Brethil, and a very large custard pie that was covered with icing."

"Gimli, you just made me hungry," Enguina laughed. " _I_ drank a huge tankard of ale…"

Gimli began chortling as Legolas whispered in her ear, "I did not take you for someone who consumes much alcohol. I drank a huge tankard of ale and then everyone laughed at me—"

"—for falling from my horse!"

"Getting back on," continued Enguina, "after Aragorn helped me, of course…"

"I happily continued on until, reaching a half-witted troll," added Legolas.

"I irritated him so much he took a swing at me!"

"I jumped out of the way—"

"And Aragorn knocked the troll onto his backside!"

"Leaping away from the troll," Gimli hollered from in front, "we launched ourselves into a lake and—"

Grinning, Enguina continued for him, "Made our way to the other side where we met—"

"A nasty dragon."

"Who was offended—"

"By Prince Legolas," Enguina said, turning her head to raise her eyebrows at him, "who happened to be with us as well."

"But he quit us as soon as he realized that…"

"We had razor-sharp rocks to throw at 'im!" laughed Gimli.

"So…" added Enguina, "swimming our way _back_ across the lake…"

"We tossed ourselves down to rest."

" _Utterly_ exhausted," Gimli tossed in.

"Violently, we were woken up!"

"Winds of such force as we had never seen came up so suddenly!"

"And exactly at that time, the Lady Galadriel appeared out of nowhere and calmed the storm!"

Enguina burst out laughing; just _hearing_ Gimli speak of the Lady was hilarious to her. "Where, you, Gimli, honored her with a kiss!" The dwarf blushed furiously.

"And we suddenly realized we had covered _zero_ miles and had to begin the journey all over again," finished Legolas, kissing Enguina's temple as they all began to laugh.

"Oh by Heaven," Enguina giggled, "that was _so_ amusing!"

"That was the best round game I think we have ever played," Legolas agreed.

"See?" she said, leaning back and brushing her lips against his chin. "You _can_ enjoy a game now and again."

As he looked down into her eyes, he was glad to see them sparkling with actual joy for the first time since they had been in Minas Tirith together. He was happy that, for even a few moments, they were able to forget the trouble at home and just live. Smiling at her, he knew that he had Gimli to thank for that small miracle. _Ilúvatar bless the dwarf_.

* * *

The sun was setting over the King's House in Minas Tirith. Everything was quiet outside; no guards were about, under strict orders by Faramir to stay away and give the family some peace. After their learning that the Queen was out of danger, the people rejoiced and brought holly, during this winter season, to decorate the porch and about the House. Though she had not yet woken when there had been word, she was recovering from the poison. It had taken the King many hours to draw her back from the very edge of death…but he had succeeded. He was thankful to his people, though he had not seen them or thanked them personally; not yet. No…Aragorn was hiding from them all; he had no desire to speak to anyone about what had happened at the moment. Anyone but Arwen, that is. Now, he remained at her side, and for the first time in many hours had taken some rest.

She came to so slowly, Arwen thought she might already be dead. Her head did not ache with fever, but her brain seemed hazy as though nothing she had experienced was real. Every part of her felt as limp as a boned fish and every muscle felt as though it had been strained and pulled taut for hours. She felt too weak to open her eyes, but she felt her own lips move…and mouth his name. The thought of him brought back a flood of pain and memories of her last waking moments…the moments she remembered only too well. Pain pierced her through the heart and physical pain smothered her as well, her empty womb like deadweight within her. She choked back a sob with a cry in her throat, the tears already flooding her, _agony_ was all she could feel. Desperately, she tried to shove the pain back; if she did not think of it, she might survive…if she did not think of it she might pull herself together…

 _Impossible_. She did not even know who she was…she could not even _find_ herself in the walls that closed around her heart. _Aragorn!_ Her heart cried out to him even before she _reached_ for him. She did not wish to fully wake, but even in her body's clear exhaustion, she did not want to sleep again. Her dark dreams were all too real. Trying to move _any_ part of her body was exhausting to her; she forced herself to curl her fingers, and they touched hair…beard…a very familiar one.

Forcing her eyes to open, and blinking a half-dozen times, she looked down upon her beloved's face. His cheek rested on her fingertips. His right hand gently lay on her wrist. His beard tickled her fingers with each breath. His hair was softly curled around his face, and the small shred of light that came through the darkened window carefully lit his was _here_ …he had come _home._ There was nothing to stop the tears now, pain sweeping through her lower body, an ever present reminder about what they had lost. Her shoulders shook; she could not raise her head. With an effort that sapped any strength she had left, she lifted her other hand and laid it on his head, fingering his hair. Unable to hold her hand there, it slipped from his face and she closed her eyes, drowning in her own pain. _Oh, agony_ … _Aragorn…Aragorn, please…help me_ …

She felt a hand close around hers, felt his head lift from her other, felt his weight on the bed beside her, his hand against her face. He was looking at her; she could feel his eyes on her…how could she _bear_ it? She could hardly breathe.

" _You are alive_ ," he whispered, and his face was so close his breath caressed her cheek. "Your hands are warm and you are alive. _Arwen…beloved, Arwen_ …"

At the sound of her name on his lips, she opened her eyes, unable to lie there any longer without seeing his eyes. She saw them, so familiar…so full of love and compassion, full of the pain of loss and fear for her, full of the joy of having her in his arms, of knowing she was alive, and yet, so full of tears. Her eyes closed again when she felt his hands on her face; she could say nothing. There were no words for what she was feeling. She tried to force her hands to wrap around him, but they would be forced no further than his sides, her fingers wrapping into and gripping the grey tunic he wore, the soft fabric catching in her failing hands, her knuckles white. He was _there…he was there!_

" _I am here_ ," he whispered, his voice so soft and tender. " _Oh, my love, I am here now._ " He did not tell her things would be all right; they were not. He did not tell her that he knew what had happened; he did not. He did not tell her that she was well again; she was not. But those words were enough to open the floodgates of her pain; she felt him _reaching_ for her, and she let him into her heart, abandoning every wall she had built in her feverish state. A torrential rain of agony poured into him, and her wail caught him off guard. As weak as she was, her grief was stronger than her will, and she _needed_ him…as desperately as he needed her.

Gently, he slipped his arms beneath her upper body and brought her up to his chest. Her head fell against his breast, tears pouring down her face and his; her hands clutched his tunic as his strong arms held her to him. Her nails dug into him as she grasped his sides, wailing into his chest, unable to control the trembling, the pain tearing through her again and again. He rocked her tenderly in his arms, feeling his heart tighten with each cry, with each tear, until he thought he would burst from her pain.

He held her to him until she stopped wailing, the weakness and the agony she was in taking revenge on her again. She fell into an exhausted sleep against his chest, but he did not lay her back down. He simply could not do it; her pain was his own. There would come a time, shortly, when she woke again, when he would need to learn of her condition and decide what way best to heal her. Right now…he simply could not move past how _tiny_ she was in his arms, and the sound of her wailing would haunt his every waking moment until he heard her voice in speech instead of tears. Oh…she had suffered ceaselessly!

But he, Aragorn, he would spend every waking moment before she opened her eyes again _praying_. Praying for strength, praying for deliverance, for guidance, for _words_ …Arwen needed him now, and he needed to comfort her. There was no escape from this pain…no escape.


	30. Chapter 30

It was midnight when Faramir heard crying and it woke him out of a sound sleep. At first, he thought perhaps it was Annî, but then he realized that Éowyn was not beside him. When they had received word from Talf that Aragorn had healed Arwen, there had been an outpouring of prayers of thanks from the people, and they had stopped their vigil. Finally, for the first time in _days_ they had been able to take some rest. The day had been long with quiet, but now, he was worried. Had something happened? Was Annî all right? Was Éowyn?

He tossed back the covers and pulled on his robe, lifting Éowyn's from the chair near their bed. Heading out into the hall and then to the baby's room, he saw her silhouetted against the window, holding a sleeping Annî in her arms as she cried, rocking her back and forth, clutching her to her breast and shoulder. He went to her side and reached out, rubbing her back gently with his fingers to let her know he was there. She did not move, her head buried in Annî's hair, and Faramir finally slipped his arms between them and took her out of Éowyn's arms.

"No, no," Éowyn muttered, trying to hold on.

"Let her go, Éowyn," Faramir whispered. "Let me take her; it is time for sleeping." Carefully, he moved Annî back to her bed, and then caught Éowyn in his arms as she reached forward to scoop her up again. "Come on, let us go and sit—"

"No!" she suddenly cried out, reaching for her again. "Oh, Faramir, I cannot leave her!"

"She is fine," he said, worried now about his wife, "safe. Nothing is going to happen to her. You need to get some rest." Wrapping his arms around her even more tightly, he carefully maneuvered her from the room and back to the drawing room where a small fire was still lit. Taking her there, he sat them down in front of it, keeping her close to him. "Éowyn, Éowyn," he said gently, "what is the matter, my love?"

In between her tears and gasping, she said, "I cannot stop _thinking_ about him…Lord in Heaven…their little _baby_ … _in that little box!_ "

His breath caught in his throat; he had seen it, just as she had, and had to look away, unable to stand the sight of that _tiny_ box. Thank Ilúvatar he had been removed from the House; there was no way Aragorn or Arwen should have to handle such a sight. There was enough pain on their road without seeing that body or the box.

"I know," he agreed. "I know it hurts."

"And every time I think of that little box being carried out, when I think of _him_ , I just want to clutch Annî tighter than ever and wrap my arms around our new baby," she said, and Faramir did, rubbing her womb gently with one hand, "and make sure nothing ever happens to him. Oh Eru in Heaven, _why_? _Why_ did he take their little one? They have waited so long!"

Faramir shook his head. "I do not know, love. I do not know why Eru would take him. I can still feel her pain; still see her face as she lay on that bed." He shook his head, his chin rubbing against her hair. "I am glad you were not there; I would not have wanted you to see that."

"But I could _hear_ her, wailing…she was hurting so much. How…how does one recover from such loss? How can she accept the loss of a child? How can he? I could never…I do not think I could live knowing that I had lost my baby. How will they…how will they survive? I can see him, staring at her as she lay on that bed, so changed!" She shook her head. "When is enough time? How much time can we give them before we go back and hug them and hold them?

He shook his head. "Usually, I rely on you for _that_ sort of etiquette," he said honestly, and she laughed, though it sounded like a cough. "We will have to see. I will go to the House and see them; I think we should at least give them a day…at least."

"Are you sure they will be all right?" she asked, her voice now softer as she tried to regain control, leaning against his strong body. "Are you sure that everyone else will give them the space?

"They will," Faramir said, his voice grim, "if they know what is good for them." His eyes narrowed as he looked at the fire over her head. "If anyone on the Council steps one toe towards that door, I will tear him limb—"

At his words, Éowyn lifted her head. "Please, Faramir," she whispered softly, cutting him off, "the last thing they need right now is a scene between you and someone else from the Council."

"A _scene_?" he griped. "Wait just a moment, that was no _scene_ Vändir caused the last time—"

" _He_ caused?" she asked incredulously, raising her eyebrows. " _You_ slugged him across the council table and threw him up against a wall, and you do not think that was a scene?"

He stared at her. "You do recall what he did, yes?"

"Oh, I recall very well," she said, sighing, "it is only that I would like my husband to remain _out_ of the stocks, yes? Annî's only memory of you from her childhood should not be that one."

"Please," he scoffed, "now you are simply being ridiculous. There were five other people waiting to hit him if I had not done—"

"Oh good!" she said sarcastically. "You could have started a _brawl_ in the council room. _That_ would have made everything better."

"Well, I would have done," he said darkly, "but Noldore stopped me, and so Dintîr backed off. Pity, that; Vändir deserved more of a licking than I gave him. There are a few men on the Council that I am sure could use one as much as he did. If any one of them gives me one good reason—"

"It is very good that you do not deal with the council very often," she muttered. "I doubt they would put up with you. They do not have cause to as I have, being your wife and all." He lowered his face and tried to rub his nose against hers, but she pulled away. "No, no," she insisted, "do not try to make up with me. I will not allow you to threaten to beat a man, and then be sweet on me."

"That is when I have the most fun," he whispered, burying his face into her neck and kissing her skin several times.

She sighed and slipped her arms around his neck. "Oh, Faramir…not tonight," she said very gently, leaning into him. "Any other night…but I…"

He kissed her under the chin. "No, not tonight; we need to get some rest." He leaned back, sighing and looking into her face. "And I do not think I have any heart left tonight to enjoy it." She kissed him.

"I love you," she said, "and I will always love you, no matter what."

"No matter what," he agreed, kissing her again. "To bed?"

"To bed."

* * *

It was around the first watch of the night when Arwen woke screaming. It was sudden, so there was nothing Aragorn could have done to prepare for it; her voice ripped through his head and his heart and her body bucked, thrashing once before she could control herself. His arms held her tight, keeping her against him before she breathed in his scent, before she realized what she was doing, who was holding her, what was happening. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart clenching in grief; it was no easier this second time. She wondered, vaguely, how many nights would she wake now in tears? Would it be forever?

Her body began to tremble against him, and he held her even more tightly, rubbing his hands along her back and arms. "Easy…" he whispered into her hair, her face in his neck. "Shh…I am here." He said the words gently, tenderly and she tried frantically, once again, to shove the pain back, to focus on him, on the love he offered her as a shield and comfort. She tried to cling to the scattered pieces of her heart that had been tossed, it seemed, in every direction. Crying appeared to be the most she could do given the circumstance and her weakness; lifting her hands was impossible. She lay against him, her face pressed into him, her shoulders wracking with her grief. She could feel his warmth, his gift flooding her, trying desperately to absorb her agony.

"Do not…" she choked out. "You _cannot_ …you cannot _take_ this…"

"Let me," he murmured, his voice as broken as hers, " _please_ …you are in terrible pain."

How could she explain what she really felt? Her whole being ached with emptiness, with _longing_ to feel the baby the way she had, to feel him… He lowered a hand across her stomach and she groaned aloud, " _Please, do not_! He is _gone_ … _he is gone_! Our son is _dead_!" Her voice had risen to a wail again and he cradled her against him, wanting to save her. She could feel him shaking as much as she was.

"Ilúvatar," he prayed softly, "take this…take this _pain_. Give us your peace, your light; it is…" His voice cut off and he forced out, "it is _so dark_. We cannot see you. Help us…help us, Father!" There was more to his prayer, more words, more whispered pleas and cries for aid, each one desperate for hope, for any sense of security, faithfulness, or love. They were broken.

Her face still buried in Aragorn's neck, she found that it was simply impossible to stay another moment in this position, no matter how much being near to him mattered. Emotionally, she was a wreck, and physically, she was in agony; her womb, her stomach, her every muscle stretched and sore; sitting upright was killing her. She could not stay like this any longer. "Oh, god…" she whispered, her eyes tightly closed, "Aragorn…I… _hurt_."

"Here?" he asked, stopping his lips in mid-muttered prayer. She knew what he meant.

" _Everywhere_ ," she moaned, and he looked down into her face, seeing the pain there. This was not grief…this was physical…this he could _do_ something about.

"Let me…let me lie you down." He carefully did, tucking the blanket closely back around her. He cupped his hands around her tear-stained face, leaning in close; she was barely recognizable, her skin clinging to her bones, her face pale, her eyes red-rimmed. "I…I do not want to leave you," he told her, "but your pain is eating me alive."

Drawing breath was becoming difficult without pain, and she opened her eyes to look at him. She could see his face was terribly torn. " _Help_ …" she pleaded, and he rose immediately and turned away from her, striding quickly into the other room. She let her head fall weakly against the pillow, _willing_ herself to stop crying. She needed to _talk_ to him…about so many other things. If she could just…if she could only find a way to press down her grief. _Help me, Father…help me…_

Aragorn returned in only a few moments with a bowl and a mug; clearly he had been preparing both for such a time. He set both on the night stand and moved her so that he could brace her a bit on the pillows. Wiping her face, he tried to smile at her. "I made you some soup. You need to have something on your stomach before you drink the tea." She looked at him tiredly; she was not hungry. She felt as though she had a hole inside her and it would be empty forever.

"I…I am not hungry."

"I know," he replied, "but you need to eat something. You need to build your strength." He saw it, just then, a moment of indecision on her face—did she _want_ to? Did she _want_ to get better? To find a way out of the darkness…could she? He watched her, unmoving except for his thumb stroking her cheek. She tried to block the question from her mind; of course she did…how could she think anything else? The pain returned again and she winced and nearly moaned aloud. Aragorn reached over to the side table and drew over the bowl and a spoon. She tried to lift her hands to take both the spoon and the bowl from him, but she did not get them halfway before they felt heavy and she had to return them to the bed. Her eyes filled, and he spooned some broth into the spoon. "You are weak," he said gently, "let me."

So he fed her then; carefully, so he did not burn her. She watched his face; he had a secret smile that he was trying to hide from her, and she figured that it was because of the idea of feeding her. She swallowed the mouthful of soup she had; she could not smile, not yet. "The soup is very good," she said softly; once she had a few spoonfuls in her stomach, she discovered she _was_ hungry.

"Perhaps I should make time to cook more often," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "It would give you a bit of a break now and then." About halfway through the bowl, he stopped and brought the mug of tea to her. "This is not going to be delicious, but it has many herbs in it that will help with the pain…it will soothe you."

He helped her drink it and she thought about his words. Did he mean it would help her sleep? Did he mean it would calm her nerves? She did not care about either one at the moment; she did not think either one would work. She _did_ however, feel the effects of it almost as soon as he began feeding her the rest of the soup. The pain lessened, and she did feel less sore. He gave her some water when the soup was finished; she felt a little bit stronger. After setting the cup down, he reached out and touched her face again, resting his hands against her skin as she closed her eyes. He leaned even closer, resting his forehead on hers; the closeness fed her strength.

"I…I was so afraid that you were dead," he whispered to her. "I did not know if I was ever going to be able to look into your eyes again. I cannot stop looking at you."

She did not know how to reply to that. She was flooded with relief that he was near, that he had returned to her, that he was holding her, touching her. "I did not think I was going to wake again," she whispered. "You rescued me," she continued, "when I did not think you ever could. Always, you arrive even when all hope has faded. You… _you_ are the hope that leads me out of the darkness." She could feel her pain ebbing away with every breath, but tiredness was taking over now.

"Better?" he asked softly, noticing the change in her breathing.

"Much," she admitted, though the emptiness could not leave her. "Enguina..." she inquired softly, "did you find her?"

"Yes," he said, "she is safe now, and she is with Legolas and Gimli. She was wounded, so they must make their way home slowly."

"They are not here?" she asked, worried. "Why…what made you come home?"

"An elf's words," Aragorn whispered to her. "He said that there were men attacking the Citadel as we spoke…I had to come as fast as I could, but Enguina could not. I rode alone; Brego was like water over the ground. And then…you called me…and he sprouted wings." He closed his eyes then, just feeling her skin against his. "So I came, on the wings of eagles."

"And Enguina," she asked, trying to keep the conversation away from the child, "she was all right? Safe? You said she was wounded."

"She had been pierced with an arrow, but I was able to heal the wound to keep her from danger as much as I could. I could not heal her fully; I needed to be here. But Legolas and Gimli will keep her safe."

"Dagnirhir—"

"I believe that he had tried to touch her," Aragorn replied softly, "but I think she was protected. She will have to confess a little bit at least to Legolas; she was bruised in places that would make him question if she had been hurt. But I believe she will be all right. They should be home in a few days; we caught them less than three days ago."

He stroked her face, stroked his fingertips over her cheekbones, down her jaw, rememorizing her face. She knew what he was doing; it was making her even more tired, and she was…she was afraid to sleep. Knowing what awaited her when she fell into those waking dreams, the memory of agony, the fever, the—no, tears came to her eyes and she could not think of the child; she could not!

"You are tired," he whispered and she bit her lip to keep the tears from pouring down her face. He lifted his head from hers so he could look into her eyes. "Arwen—"

" _Please_ ," she murmured, beginning to tremble, " _not tonight, not now_. _I beg you._ " He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek and nodded. He did not know if he was ready either.

"You need to find rest…peace," he said.

She pressed her lips together, and her voice broke as she said, "I am afraid to close my eyes. Even as tired as I am…I do not think sleep will ever find me; not without…" She could not finish, and the tears did come again and she could not prevent them; he wiped them gently away.

"I can help you sleep," he told her as he ran his fingertips over her eyelids. He pressed his lips to her forehead and rose, leaving the bedroom for the kitchen once again. She fought desperately to keep her eyes open; fear helped. She did not need terrible dreams _and_ terrible memories.

He came back with another mug and she could smell the herbs in it; she had brewed it herself for her brothers and even for Enguina many times. Aragorn sat at her side again and leaned over to help her drink it, cupping the back of her neck with his hand.

"No dreams?" she asked softly, and he shook his head.

"No dreams, vanimelda."

She looked at him closely. "You look as exhausted as I feel."

"I will get some rest while you are sleeping," he promised. "Here, drink."

Arwen knew the effect would be almost instant, so she _forced_ her hand up behind his head just as she drank the last, tugging his face back down to hers. He kissed her then, gently, sweetly, a rejoicing in the fact that she was alive and they were together. Her eyes were fluttering closed by the time he sat back a little bit.

" _I love you_ ," she whispered, and did not even hear his reply as she fell fast asleep. It would be her first since the night before he had ridden out of the Citadel.

* * *

Aragorn had not entirely been telling the truth when he had told Arwen that he was going to be taking rest while she was. It was dark; the stars were veiled in clouds tonight and it was warmer than it had been through the last nights he had been traveling. Aragorn slowly made his way through the gardens; there was not a guard in sight. When he had told them he had wanted to be alone, they had listened; this was more a relief than even he had realized. Today had been, without exception, the most difficult he had ever known. Arwen had been at the very gates of death, but after long struggle, he had been able to call her back. He had eaten next to nothing for days, yet he was not hungry. His strength had left him, yet he could not sleep.

Arwen lay sleeping in their bed, resting; though he could hardly say peacefully, at least she would not dream. Her suffering was eating away at his heart; the memory of her thin form haunted him. The poison, though it had not killed her, had done its work. What Calendur had made her endure…his heart ached within him and he had to breathe, to walk away to collect himself. He could not help but think…what if she regretted her choice? She had been forced to suffer too much; if she had been any other elf that had been poisoned, been so ill, and had lost…what they had lost…he knew for certain that she would be on the next ship to Valinor. But this was _Arwen_ …she was his _wife_ …she had sacrificed everything to be with him, and she did not have the option. What if she realized that being with him was not worth the suffering? She had endured too much, and for Aragorn, that was a great burden…and a great responsibility.

And from that responsibility, he would find no rest, no comfort tonight as he walked out of the garden and to the very edge of the Embrasure, resting his hands on the stone and staring out over the silence of the City. He remembered, only weeks ago, how her arms had tightly surrounded him the night he had been so burdened with the death of the child he had tried to bring into the world. He remembered their conversation about death, how they had trusted in Ilúvatar to keep the child safe…their _son_ ; now they knew it had been a boy. His breath caught in his throat and his chest pained with grief; his eyes closed with the weight of his sorrow.

 _How he had wanted to hold that child!_ That small creation, that little boy, so delicately formed through their union and Ilúvatar's will. The active, living soul that Arwen had carried within her had been loved by so many. When they realized that Arwen was with child, the _entire City_ under Faramir's direction held such a celebration that was worthy of full record. And Aragorn remembered the evening they had spent thereafter, wrapped in each other's arms under the sycamores that had grown on the banks of the Anduin; they had ridden there late at night and Brego and Asfaloth had bedded down some distance away so the couple could be alone. It had been a necessary escape after such a day filled with joys, and they had celebrated together, and made love, and spoke of all the delights they would have in such a child's growth. The child was his and Arwen's, and nothing in the world could have taken away the joy he had known holding and loving her in his arms that night near the Anduin when she had been with child. Her soul had glowed through her every feature, and she had been lit with happiness. He had been happy, but she…her delight had been constant. Every desire of her heart had been fulfilled.

His mind's eye lit with what might-have-been. He saw them, him and Arwen, holding the boy and singing softly to him as he laughed. He saw the great celebration the people held at the birth of an heir. He saw himself holding his hand, taking him for his first riding lesson on the gentle Brego or the softhearted Asfaloth. He saw Arwen and he just about to lose themselves in each other's embrace, as their little boy entered, wishing to sleep between his parents…and they were overjoyed with his presence. Aragorn saw his first steps, his first words, Legolas' teaching of archery, and his own teaching of wielding a sword. Arwen's gentle kisses, Éowyn's kind words, Gimli's laughter, Enguina's faithful heart, and Faramir's teaching of courage and honor…all these things and more…they had lost so much.

The grief of the loss they had suffered cut through him as if it were a sword. His emotional agony and physical weariness were suddenly too much to bear; it buried him beneath its weight, the image trapped in his mind of Arwen lying on that bed so near death…tears blurring his vision. The image came to him of Arwen sitting there at the Fountain, moonlight shining about her night-dark hair with stars in her eyes, her hands resting on her womb, feeling the child as she had been the night he had gone to her and knelt at her feet and kissed her hands.

He looked up into the night, heart wrenching in grief at how close… _how close_ …dare he even think of it? But nay, the thought would not surrender to him; it would not leave his head. He had felt her wasting away beneath his hands, had felt her heart try to stop beating, had felt the poison try to take her from him completely…and then as it slowly begin to leave her as he called her back to him. He had never been so close to losing it. As he felt her slipping away, his grief had nearly consumed him, but he had controlled it then, had controlled it in the face of _her_ grief. Did she _know_? Did she know how he felt, seeing her awake, alive in his arms? Here, at the Embrasure, there was no way to control that same grief. Here, he faced that grief that would have been so total…so devastating. Here, it consumed him.

There was a great rent in his heart and he cried out in woe as he fell to his knees at the very edge, his voice echoing off the short walls surrounding him. The sorrow, the anguish of such loss was beyond his power to control, and he wept, lowering his face to his calloused hands, his forehead resting on the stone. Later, he would not know how long it was he stayed there, how long his tears fell on the cold ground, how long it had been since he had stopped or the tears had begun again. When he could not find the tears to weep any longer, he found himself lifting his head to the dark night, where he looked into the darkness as if he could see a face.

"Why?" he said, his voice a heart-broken whisper, his hands shaking with the strain on his own heart. "Why have you done this? Have I not done all that you ever wanted?

" _WHY!?_ " he screamed out into the dark night, slamming his fists against the stone before him, tears flooding down his face once more. " _Why have you brought this upon us? Have I not suffered enough for you? Have I not done all things the way you wished them? Have I not suffered and fought and toiled enough to earn your peace? What do you_ ** _want_** _from me!?_

" _I have hoped…and prayed that you would set things right, time and again! I never lost faith in you! That one day that all things would bring peace, not pain. But what have you done?"_ he asked, staring at the heavens, his knuckles white with the force of the strain, his chest heaving. _"You have taken my son! We hoped…we prayed for_ ** _so long_** _. Arwen rejoiced in you! She danced for your glory in celebration before you!_ _I thought our child was a gift from you, a gift that no one could take away, yet…he is gone."_ He gasped for breath, forcing out his words, shaking his head.

"Even so, I would trust you…even in this great darkness, Ilúvatar, I would trust you, praise you, battle the grief and the woe," his voice broke, and more tears fell. " _I know not your purpose_! Who can? You must give me the words…you must give me the strength." His breath came harder, and he raised his fist, shaking it, glaring at the sky. "But…the child…our boy alone was not enough," he growled.

" _I have given you_ ** _everything_** _!_ " his voice grew to a shout once more. " _Your people speak of the One never giving them more than they could take, yet…yet…you nearly took from me the only one who has ever held a place in my heart, the one whose loss would break me forever! She is all that I live for, all that I am! If you take my beloved, I am_ ** _nothing_** _. You know she is the other half of my soul; you see all that we are, all that I am. How…how…_ " he stuttered over the words, his anger, his frustration and grief building inside his heart until they burst out and he yelled out over the Embrasure from his knees, pounding against the stone with his hands, " _HOW COULD YOU TRY AND TAKE HER FROM ME?!_

 _"You would destroy my heart? After everything I have done to bring peace to the world you made, after everything I have given and sacrificed, you would call on me to make the sacrifice to live without her? What more can I_ ** _give_** _? You cannot_ ** _take_** _her! Do not make her the sacrifice! She will_ ** _not_** _be the sacrifice!_ " He spread his arms wide, staring at the Heavens with tears pouring down his face. " ** _Here!_** _If you want a sacrifice, here I am! I kneel right here! TAKE ME, if that is what you wish!_

Without any warning at all, the sky opened up. Rain…a gentle tide of rain began falling over the sky above Minas Tirith, and Aragorn, holding his position, felt it washing over him, wiping away his tears, his grief. It was comfort, swift and sure. After a few moments, he dropped his head, folding his hands and holding them against his brow.

"I cry out to you, Father! You know my heart," he whispered. "You have seen my grief; you understand it. You have let me save her; you gave her back to me…now you must guide my words. She needs me; she needs hope…how can she see you through so much darkness? Her suffering destroys me; her grief has burdened me more than I can bear! She is in _pain_ ; you took her joy when you took our boy." He shook his head. "I do not know what to _do_ ; this I cannot heal. Time…time for us both to accept; there is nothing else." He lowered his hands and looked up into the sky, the water mingling with the tears on his face. "Please… _help us._ I know it will be difficult, but be here with us, between us, among us. Arwen and I desperately need you now."

He stayed there a little longer as the rain poured down on him, exhaustion and grief draining his strength; he found his hands were shaking, his legs trembling…he was cold now, as he had not been in some time. His knees were weak as he used the wall to stand, but he knew that was not only from weariness. Again, he stared out over the City out away from the Pelennor towards the mountains of Mordor, where Legolas would be traveling home.

"We are not the only ones who need you tonight," he whispered. "Please, bring home Enguina, Legolas, and Gimli safely. Give Legolas sharp eyes, Gimli safe passage, and Enguina healing for the journey. May they, by your grace, be well when they return." He sighed heavily, reaching up to run a hand across his eyes. "It is in your will I ask these things. It is in your great name that I plead with you for mercy, that I thank you for Arwen, that I ask for grace in our grief, and that I ask for traveling blessings. Be near, O Lord of Life!"

Slowly, he turned away towards the gardens. He would return to his cherished wife so he would be with her when she woke. He only prayed he could find the right words to comfort her.


	31. Chapter 31

"These woods are quite fair," Enguina commented, "but even diminished, the shadow of Mordor hangs heavily over them."

Following Aragorn's trail home, Legolas, Enguina, and Gimli were making their way once more through Ithilien…and it was a much faster one at that. They had been traveling for two days now, since Enguina had been feeling better, and in another three should easily be in Minas Tirith. The road was easy, even in the heavy snow that had fallen since their departure. It was snowing quite heavily at the moment, and they could not do much more than walk, but they were enjoying each other's company, and they were enjoying the beauty of the woods.

Legolas held his arms more tightly about her. She was in a much fairer mood today than she had been in, for her talk with Legolas had soothed her very much, and Gimli's games had helped everyone. He smiled as he rested his head upon hers, and she leaned gently back against him, following the rocking movement of Glosbrethil's walk.

"Someday," he said softly, "I intend to live somewhere in these trees, in Ithilien…and bring light and song back into these woods. I was thinking of bringing some of my kin here from Eryn Lasgalen, if it was all right with my Father, of course."

"That old treasure-hoarder?" laughed Gimli. "I'm sure he'd have no trouble at all."

"I had heard that King Thranduil had a large treasure-trove—" Enguina began.

"That actually is not completely accurate," refuted Legolas, though she could feel some embarrassment from him. "He does not have a hoard of treasure, but he does have a great love of things that shine…as do miserable dwarves who should close their mouths."

"Hmph!" said Gimli. "I _do_ like things that shine! I intend to make my home among the Glittering Caves of Helm's Deep, Enguina. _That_ is a kingly place for a dwarf!"

She glanced at Legolas. "We are returning to this subject of conversation in a moment," she said, and then, looking to Gimli, "Helm's Deep? Where is that, Gimli?"

"It is in Rohan; not too far, not too far! A few days ride and you'd be standing among the rocks and glittering stones. Legolas has seen it."

"Yes," he agreed, "and it is quite beautiful for a visit."

"Perhaps, one day," she said, "I could see it."

"Of course!" Gimli laughed, but then sobered. "Though, I don't think you'd probably like to spend much time there, being where your brother fell and all; not that I'd like to bring up that sort of thing, but…uh…"

"Oh…" she said, "I thought I recognized that name from somewhere. It must have some history, though, if it is a fortress of Rohan."

"It is where the Rohirrim return in times of trouble," Legolas explained. "They have always been spared by fleeing and defending the Keep there; luckily, Aragorn was there to help guide them last time…against ten thousand orcs, no less. The Rohirrim were very grateful for the aid of the elves as well."

There was silence for a few minutes, and Enguina turned her head to glance at Legolas again. "So…your Father likes treasure?"

He laughed softly. "Oh, Guin, _everyone_ likes treasure! It is simply that not every man's treasure is gold. We all have things we love, that we obsess over. My Father…well, he has been alone for a very long time and he found some joy in…shiny things."

"Your mother—"

"She died…many years ago," he said, not delving into the story, and she immediately understood that the subject was closed by the way his jaw suddenly set. "In any matter, I tend not to criticize him; I do not see him often, as we…sort of belong in separate parts of the world at the moment."

"But he was good, for a pointy-ear, when I visited him," Gimli added, winking at Enguina, "and I should fairly say that you'd like him if you met him. He's got a good heart; you just need to…" Gimli cast around a bit for words, " _drag_ him out a bit."

"Wake him up, is more the like," Legolas added, snorting. "He is a grim sort," he said honestly, "and unlike Gimli, I…am not entirely sure you _would_ like him." His face flushed as he spoke. "You may think he is…proud and overbearing…and—"

"And he is _your_ father?" she laughed. "Come now, are you not being a bit hard on him, just because he is your father?"

"No, of that I am certain," he said, shaking his head. "We are…not very much alike anymore. You would hardly know we were kin."

She sighed softly. "I am sorry to hear that…but I should like to meet him someday, just the same."

"You will," said Gimli with a secretive little smile and Enguina looked at him quizzically as he looked away, and Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Ignore the dwarf," he said simply, breathing on her ear so that she shivered, distracted, "I do."

"That was not nice," she said, turning her head to look at him, but he brushed his lips against hers the moment she had turned. This distraction worked much better, of course, and the kiss was prolonged for a moment or two…perhaps even a bit longer. She settled back against him, smiling to herself, and reaching up to touch the edge of her lip, thinking of him, how different she felt.

Legolas had been nothing but attentive the last few days and there was no doubt that there was nothing she enjoyed more than being with him. His words, his kindness, his comfort…she would never find anyone who was so wonderful to her. He loved her as much as he had told her with his lips; perhaps even more if that were possible.

Leaning her head back against his shoulder, she said, "Glosbrethil is such a joy to ride; he is so smooth and comfortable. I hope he does not take any offense to carrying me." The grey threw his head and snorted as Legolas smiled.

"Of course not, _moina quén_. Aragorn made certain of that before we left, and Brethil told him that he would be more than willing." A smile spread across his face. "Beside that, you are not the first person he has carried double."

She glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Oh? Was there another 'damsel in distress' in the Mirkwood Prince's past?" Though he knew that she fooled with him, a blush appeared upon his face.

"No, dear Lady, there was no other woman, though Glosbrethil has several times borne Aragorn or myself from a journey that had not ended so well."

She frowned, worried. "How many times?"

Legolas smiled sheepishly. "We were…reckless in Aragorn's youth, though Brethil was not around for most of it." He patted her hand gently. "But do not fear, Guin; we are not so reckless anymore."

A snort sounded from off to her right and Enguina smiled. "Yes, because _no one_ was reckless trying to ride out here with no plan at all," Gimli said with a chuckle. "Aragorn didn't need to give you a job to do so that you didn't go riding off into—"

"Have it your way," Legolas said, rolling his eyes again. "I suppose I was in a bit of a hurry to get to you," he admitted, "but you can hardly blame me."

Enguina kissed his chin. "I thank you, very much. I would have died without the three of you, especially since you said that they intended to abandon me. Bleeding as I was, I would have drawn every wolf and vulture for miles." She sighed and he scowled at the side of her head.

"I did not need that image, thank you not at all."

She laughed softly. "I was trying to be grateful!"

"I'll say this for him though," Gimli added, "even if it was reckless, it was the right thing to do. No matter what comes of any of this, we were right in coming to rescue you, lass. Leaving you out here wasn't an option."

"Well said, my friend," Legolas stated. They fell silent again, until Enguina heard Gimli begin to hum softly.

"Gimli, what is that you are murmuring?" she asked, and the dwarf smiled.

"Just a little song, Enguina," he said with a blush.

"Will you sing it for me? It sounds lively, and it will bring cheer to our travels."

If he was going to sing, he might as well sing the song the way it was meant to be sung. Loudly, as if in a tavern, Gimli began to sing in a bellowing voice:

 _As I stumbled through the streets of the City,_

 _I saw a fair maiden with long golden-hair._

 _She smiled at me but did not tarry,_

 _and now I can find her no more._

 _Alas! I have searched every tavern in sight;_

 _still I see no signs of her loveliness._

 _Now I must wander forever alone lonely,_

 _or drink from a mug 'till I am silly!_

 _I could conjure up her form in my head,_

 _and lie away sleepless nights in my bed._

 _But lost and terribly alone I would be,_

 _if I had not the friendly smoke of my pipe!_

 _So here on this dreadful barstool I sit,_

 _Sad and full of depression I'll be_

 _I'll smoke and I'll drink 'till I forget my woe…_

' _till a new lass again in my stupor I see!_

Enguina burst into sidesplitting laughter, as even Gimli himself laughed.

"What in the world was that?" Legolas laughed heartily. He glanced back around at his friend. "That is no song I have ever heard! You just made that up, poem and tune!"

Gimli laughed, but blushed at being found out, though Enguina laughed and smiled. "You are full of surprises, Gimli! If I had known dwarves like you, perhaps I would not have lived with prejudice against your race for most of my life."

Gimli laughed. "Had _I_ known more elves, I would have fared differently as well!"

"Perhaps we can change our races if we work hard enough; perhaps we can make good between our races once and for all!" she grinned, and kissed Legolas's chin again. "Do you not agree, love?"

"I believe that you can do anything," he said honestly, completely distracted by her kiss. "Our people would definitely come together if you asked them to."

Enguina laughed. "Darling," she said softly to him, and he was surprised by her first use of an endearment, "I think that it is only you who are so swayed by me." She leaned away from him before he could reply and called to Gimli, "Come, Gimli! Sing me a traveling song!"

"I'm not at my best with such rhythms, but I shall try." The dwarf cleared his throat, and began to holler at the top of his voice. " _Hi-HO…hi-HO…it's off—_ "

" _NO_!" cried Legolas, pulling his hands from around Enguina's waist so suddenly he startled her, quickly covering his ears. " _Anything_ but _that_ , Gimli! My ears cannot take the suffering!" The dwarf burst into laughter.

"You frightened me," stated a confused Enguina. "It did not seem so bad, Legolas. Why can he not sing it?"

Legolas scowled as Gimli looked over at him. "He has sung it one too many times in my presence," he stated. Enguina, of course, even as Gimli laughed, remained confused.

"When? What are you talking about?"

"No, I will not speak of it!" Legolas cried, and looked away from her.

Gimli kept right on laughing. "Whyever not?" she questioned.

"No, I will not say another word."

"Perhaps one day, when the time is right you'll hear all of our tales! You'd enjoy the story though," Gimli stated around his laughter.

"You shall _never_ tell her that story, Gimli! I _forbid_ it!"

Gimli laughed again. "All _right_ , lad! Well then, _you_ had better sing the Lady a traveling song if you do not wish her to hear mine!"

Enguina turned half-about in the saddle to look at him. "Will you, Legolas?"

He sighed. "Why do _you_ not sing, Guin? I am certain that your voice would make any melody sweeter than mine and carry it clearer as well, _moina quén_."

"I do not wish to make sound," she said softly, "I wish to hear it. And…you sing so beautifully."

"Come, Miserable Elf!" Gimli laughed, "Even _I_ sang for the Lady and I am not a very loveable tenor, bass, or song writer!"

Legolas was silent for a moment, looking down into Enguina's expectant face. "Ah…very well. Let me see what I shall sing for you." He then easily took up a song in the manner of the elves, and though it was not a fast song it did have rhythm that followed the footsteps of the horses they rode. Soon his two companions were lost in the sweet sound of Legolas' light voice:

 _Softly, softly, through the woods I roam;_

 _footsteps are barely heard in the mist._

 _The soil is soft beneath my feet,_

 _where others may have trod._

 _Quickly, quickly, the sun is now fading;_

 _winter is coming as the leaves fall._

 _The wind's kiss is felt on my cheek,_

 _but her lips are frosty cold._

 _Tenderly, tenderly, thoughts turn to my dear one,_

 _her gentle hands on my brow, her sweetness in my senses._

 _Reminders of love the leaves whisper to me;_

 _she is in all that lives._

 _Coldly, coldly, my journey moves on;_

 _though I am cloaked I feel not its heat._

 _For I am warmed only by thought of my dear one,_

 _and her precious love for me._

There was silence when his melody ended, but then Enguina spoke.

"Such beautiful songs you sing, Legolas."

"Aye, lad. That was a nice song, indeed. Come, we shall have another!"

"I do not believe I remember the words to another song at the moment…" Legolas replied, resting his head upon Enguina's.

"I don't believe you," Gimli laughed, "but I'll let you go." He glanced around at the woods about them and frowned. "You can tell this place is near Mordor; half the trees are dead!"

"I thought they appeared that way because it is a fairly bleak midwinter," said Enguina. "It could be frightening here if we were not singing."

"There is no need to be afraid. We shall follow Aragorn's trail and we shall be safe." He smiled. "It is not difficult to find; he was racing with the wind."

"Speaking of Aragorn," interrupted Gimli, "do you think the poor lad made it home all right? He was completely exhausted, riding for nearly three days and then healing…barely any rest at all," he shook his head with worry. "I'm dreadfully worried about him. What if he does return and, Eru forbid it, Arwen has been killed?"

"No!" Enguina said suddenly, dropping Brethil's reins and raising her hands to her ears. "Stop, Gimli; do not even talk that way!" She felt Legolas's arms encircle her waist again, holding her against him.

"You can be assured, Gimli," Legolas said, "that if that is true, we will return to find Minas Tirith in pieces and both of them deceased."

"What? Legolas, that's absurd."

"You do not understand," he said softly, keeping his head on Enguina's, "neither one can long outlive the other. This will be true until their ending; when one loses all that they have lived for, they seek death out instead of waiting for it."

"That is why the elves go to Valinor…to escape the anguish that comes with this life," Enguina said softly, looking over at Gimli. "They seek peace of heart and mind, and sometimes wish to escape the weariness that comes from living."

"But he has all of us…doesn't he?" questioned Gimli. "Besides, Faramir would not let him die…and that can't be the end for Aragorn. He must grow to an old age! His people depend on him for strength!"

"None of that will matter, in the end," he said quietly, thinking over the dwarf's words. "The only thing that will matter in the end is their love…that is all."

"But none of that matters," Enguina stated firmly. "We shall not return to sorrowing in Minas Tirith, so it does not matter. Arwen is going to be _fine_. Aragorn made it to Minas Tirith in plenty of time and everyone who sought to hurt her is dead. Ilúvatar will protect those we love. He will." She had to believe that…he had answered her every other prayer; He could not fail on this one. Not with someone so important to her.

"We must believe that, yes," Gimli said with a sigh. "But it is difficult when the road is so long!"

"Close your eyes, Gimli," Legolas said gently. "Lómë knows the way even better than we do."

* * *

Faramir stood at the steps to the King's House. It was evening, and no one had seen Aragorn nor Arwen…it would be three days the upcoming dawn. He struggled with himself; he did not know what to do. Should he knock? Should he go inside? Dare he disturb them, in their grief? How many days did they need? Was Arwen still all right? How many days were customary for Minas Tirith to go without its King when he was present in the City? How many days would the people wait? How many days before the Council moved on the House themselves?

He could not answer any of these questions. There was a fire lit, but there was no sound or movement within the House. Then again, Arwen had been ill; perhaps she was still in bed, or perhaps they were still recovering. He nearly snorted; _recovering_ …as if one could simply accept the death of their child and move on. Aragorn had looked like a son of Morgoth when he arrived before the Tower, so it should surprise no one when he did not appear and he still needed rest. But the Council…they were getting restless. They wanted to know where their King was; Faramir had not treated them with much respect today. Even Noldore had asked him questions he could not answer, and Éowyn had a word or two to say to him when he had arrived home.

Faramir turned away. What right did he have to disturb their peace? Surely, tomorrow would be a much better day; it would be a day where the sun would rise and in the morning he could talk with Aragorn and see how they were doing. He sighed. Yes, tomorrow would be a much better day.

* * *

Stumbling from the bedroom on shaky legs that had barely made it from the kitchen and back to bed today, Arwen nearly fell to her knees twice before she made it into the sitting room. Her hand fell to the chair and she pushed herself from it, knocking it over in front of the fire, her breath coming out in gasps, her chest heaving—the room was closing in around her, pressing in on her. She tripped, her hands and knees catching her as she fell, scraping and bruising them on the wood…but if she stopped now, she would stop breathing; she would never get out.

Throwing herself to her feet, the whole-body trembling beginning, she staggered to the back door that led out onto the balcony, the pitch-black night completely silent; there were no stars. Falling forward again, she barely got her hands on the railing before she fell to her knees, the sobs taking her, her heart ripping with pain, agony filling her and flooding every pore as she groaned. Burying her tear-stained face in her hands, she pulled her hair, holding onto it tightly. The physical pain was nothing; she barely felt it at all. But the _grief_ …it overwhelmed her. It was agony, bringing on wailing and sobbing.

She had never cried quite like this. She had never felt so empty, so full of pain. She had been depressed in Lothlórien those years ago, before Aragorn came and brought light and song back into her life. But this was not depression; this was heartbreak. Ilúvatar had taken her baby… _her_ _baby_ …and she could not even think straight. All she could feel was the loss, the grief, the agony. Burying her face into her hands, she wailed—a long string of haunting Elvish—her voice flooded with distress and pain. The haunting melody made the hair stand up on the back of the necks of everyone left awake to hear it, sending chills down their spine.

 _Ú-hir ion nîn? Ú-hir hîna nîn?_

 _Eru chebi chênion nîn cebiel_

 _Esteion, este chênion nîn._

 _Ú-chebon rancesse, ú-caiton este_

 _Lost ranc nîn; lost mard caiton_

 _Chênion nîn cela! Chênion nîn gurtha!_

 _Ú-gala anor a gurtha elda; mor a ring a dú_

 _Chênion esta…chênion esta oio!_

[Where is my boy? Where is my babe? Eru has taken my son to his keeping. He sleeps, my son sleeps. I cannot hold him in my arms or lay him down to sleep. My arms are empty; the bed lies empty. My son is gone! My son is dead! No sun shines and the stars are dead; the night is black and cold. My son is sleeping…my son sleeps forever!]

" _Chênion esta oio…chênion esta oio…_ "

She kept muttering the words in her grief, in her lament over his death, her loss. She saw and heard nothing. But it did not come wholly unexpected when Aragorn reached her and tried to take her shoulders from behind.

" _No!_ " she cried, yanking away desperately, sobbing, so full of grief. " _Do not touch me!_ "

"Arwen…" he whispered brokenly, trying to reach out to her, to comfort her, to be near her.

" _No, no, get away! Go away! Leave me alone!_ " Her whole body trembling, her words stuttering out, she bent over in half, wrapping herself around her empty womb, sobbing.

He stood, barefoot in the snow behind her, his hands up, palms out, tears on his face. What could he do? What could he say to find his wife inside the mess that she was right now? He was stricken by her refusal of his touch, his comfort; pain pierced his heart. Could he not comfort her? It had been the only thing he could offer; to hold her close to him, the steadiness of his heartbeat, the steadfastness of his love. If he could not give her his comfort, share in her suffering, than he could give her nothing. He stumbled backwards, his heart filled with her agony as she called out in his mind yet refused him with her words. He turned away, crying with as much pain as she was.

Aragorn felt a brush of air behind him before he had taken more than a step.

" _Do not go!"_ Arwen cried out suddenly, stumbling toward him on her knees, sobbing. She fell forward as she reached for him with one hand, the other in the snow supporting her weight. " _Please, god, do not leave me! Forgive me!"_

He was with her, on his knees, before she had even finished speaking, half-holding her against him as she clutched at his tunic, sobbing into him, muttering over and over, " _Forgive me! Please, forgive me!_ " He clutched her just as hard, rocking her, his hand wrapped in her hair as she cried; he could think of nothing but the mournful words she had spoken to the night.

He gasped back a sob and swallowed hard. "Tell me what to do," he said, crying into her hair as he held her face to his chest. "Tell me how to help you, how to comfort you." How could he, when he was barely able to comfort himself? _Ilúvatar, help me!_ He reached for the One with all his strength, her pain consuming his heart again, and he lost the ability to speak.

"I…I do not _know_ ," she moaned. "He is _gone_ …he cannot come back…not ever… _not_ _ever_ , Estel…I am so empty. So _empty_!" She cried, one of her hands falling to her womb, and one of his followed her there, covering her hand and stroking her at the same time. "To never feel him again…to never get to hold him," she choked out, a sob coming to her throat, tears flowing down her face, "to never be his mother! He is in a _box_ , _in the ground!_ " She wept, and she felt his shoulders shake beneath her head. He felt the same pain she did.

"You…you _were_ his mother," he murmured, though his voice was strained as he held her tighter, trying to hold himself together as well. "I was his father. You loved him…we gave him life, you…and me…together."

She cried. "He was our _son_!"

"Yes," he whispered, pressing his cheek to her hair and closing his eyes securely.

"We were going to raise him to be a King," she said, and he felt her nails digging into his chest, "to value life, to be kind, to have courage for his people, to love his family. We were going to teach him how to ride, how to wield a sword, shoot a bow, teach him to sing…we…we will never even get to hear his _voice_ …"

"He heard ours," he told her gently, straining to keep himself from sobbing right along with her.

"Did he…did he _know_?" she asked, and he could hear the pleading in her voice. " _Did he know we loved him?_ "

"He knew," Aragorn choked out, "he knew he was loved. He heard your singing…and mine…he may not have understood the words, but he could _feel_ it. He knew."

"He…he would have been…so small," she sobbed, "with little tiny hands…and little tiny feet…and little, shining grey eyes…like _yours_. I saw them…I saw them in the woods."

"What?" he whispered.

"I saw him…with you…you picked him up into your arms and spun him around…and kissed…kissed his face. They were _your_ eyes…he was _our_ son. _Our son_!"

He understood now, what she was talking about. He remembered her telling him, on the eve of their wedding, how she had turned from the road to Valinor because of a vision of the boy they would one day bring into the world. Had this boy been that child? Was he to be the one…and now he was gone forever? Would they never have another? No, he could not bear to think that way.

" _Why?_ " she moaned. " _Why did Ilúvatar take him away, Estel?_ "

She called him hope when she needed it most, and she was desperate for it now. "I do not know, beloved," he whispered, "I do not know."

"I begged Him to save the baby," she whispered, "I _begged_ him, and he did not answer. He did not answer! And I…I was so…"

"Alone," he said, and she could hear the pain in his voice. "I know Faramir and Éowyn were with you, but…I wish I had been here, if for nothing but comfort."

"I was so afraid," she told him, not even trying to prevent the tears, "and the Healers would not tell me what was happening. I could not understand why I could not feel him anymore…but he was gone. He was already dead…and I…I was in so much _pain_."

"I heard you calling for me," he murmured, "I tried to send you as much peace as I could, but…I could not find your mind through the pain."

"It was the most awful moment," she whispered. "I…I wanted to _die_."

"My love, my love…" he pressed his lips to her hair, "Ilúvatar was with you that night. He…spared you so that we could still be together."

She knew that was true. Aragorn had arrived in time to save her because Eru had made it so; He had sent Aragorn on Brego's wings to reach her, to rescue her. But why not the baby? She asked the question, her voice so soft now as she trembled in his arms. "Why did he not spare our son?"

"I cannot answer, Arwen," he replied slowly, "and we will…we will probably never know."

"Are you trying to tell me it is fruitless to ask?"

"No, beloved," he said, holding her closer, "I am trying to help both of us see that we will never receive an answer. Perhaps the will of evil was too strong that night; perhaps only one of you—"

"It hurts so much," she whispered, her teeth beginning to chatter. "We have lost someone so precious…I am not sure I can be glad that Ilúvatar chose _me_ …he chose me instead of our son."

She felt his breath catch as he struggled to find words to respond. "It…it is difficult to see any light when it is so dark, love," he finally said. "As heartbroken with grief as we are…we have one another. You are still my wife, and I, your husband."

"I feel as though this night will never be over," she whispered, tears flooding her eyes again. "I feel like I will carry this pain with me forever. I lost our son; I _lost_ our little boy."

"No," he said gently, " _you_ did not. He was murdered, taken from us by evil. You did nothing wrong…it was _them_." He stroked her hair. "We need to trust Ilúvatar…that He will remain close to us, that His power will strengthen us."

"How can I…how can I ever accept this, Estel?"

"We cannot," he replied simply. She raised her head and he rested his hands on her cheeks as she looked into his tear-stained face. "We can _never_ accept it; but we must bear it together. We love one another, and that love bears all things…believes all things…hopes all things…endures all things…"

"Love never fails," she finished, and she knew it was true, the words they had spoken to each other on their wedding day. "I…I did not expect it to be so hard…so soon," she admitted. They had each other; they could heal…slowly, over time. "Where…where would I be if not for you?"

He shook his head, resting his brow against hers and his hands cupping her face. "Where I would be if I had not your love."

"I love you…I will always love you. You are my hope when the way is long and dark; you are my strength when I am weak, my shelter from the storm." He wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"And you are mine, vanimelda. Take everything I am," he whispered, "and I am nothing without you. I am yours; let our hearts rescue each other." He kissed her lips gently, and then he held her back. "You are freezing," he said, his eyes worried as he noticed her chattering teeth.

"You are, too."

"It is time for you to be inside."

"I…I do not want to sleep yet," she whispered, her shaking becoming more pronounced. He drew her up easily into his arms and stood.

"We will sit by the fire," he said and she rested her head against his shoulder, "and we will warm each other."

"This," she said, laying a hand upon his heart, her voice full of tears again, "is the rhythm of my life. Where would I be if not for you?" she repeated. "I cannot live without you."

"Nor can I without you. We are one," he told her. "We were made to be together; I will be your hope as you are mine." He laid her down on the rug by the fire, and after throwing another log on, lay down with her, wrapping her tightly in his embrace. She curled up against his chest and looked up into his face. He was crying again, and she reached up a hand and laid it on his cheek; her face was already wet again.

"Are we ever going to be able to look at each other without crying?" she whispered, and he tried to laugh, but it came out more like a gasp.

"I cannot stop thinking about how…close I came to losing you," he said so softly she barely heard him. "You are awfully light and small in my arms." He brushed her hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "You were terribly ill…I was so afraid that I would lose you; that I could not save you."

The fire warmed her back, and she pulled herself even closer to him; he held her tighter. "But you did," she whispered, "and we are together, as we were meant to be, as you said." _But we are only two…we should have been three…_ He heard the words as clearly as though she had spoken them. Her eyes flooded with tears again, and she buried her head against his chest. He held her close as she begged him, " _Please pray for us_."

He did.


	32. Chapter 32

The morning had come, and Faramir had made the decision that he was going to intrude; he had to. Three days was too long to not know if they were all right; if Arwen was well; if the two of them were surviving, or eating, or even _living_. He had to know, and so he stepped up onto the porch of the King's House, determined to at least see Aragorn's face for half-a-moment even if the man refused to allow him inside. He knocked, and after a few moments, the door opened.

"Good morning, Faramir," he said softly, and Faramir could smell the sausage and eggs he was cooking wafting out through the front door. He extended his hand to him and clasped his arm.

"Good morning. It is good to see you."

"You as well," he replied.

"How…how are things, Aragorn?" he asked.

"At the moment, I am attempting to cook breakfast. Would you like to come in?"

"Is that all right?" he asked, a bit sheepishly. "I did not wish to disturb—"

Aragorn gave an exasperated sigh. "Please, we have been alone long enough," he said gently. "It is time for us to try to be a bit more social. We shall soon have no choice in the matter anyway." He took his shoulder and stepped back to make room for the man to come inside, but over Faramir's shoulder his eyes caught on Éowyn, standing down in the snow, watching them. Aragorn reached out and slapped Faramir as he walked past. "Were you just going to leave your wife standing out in the snow?" he asked incredulously. "What is the _matter_ with you, Faramir?"

"I—"

"It was not his fault!" Éowyn cried, coming to the bottom of the steps, holding up her hand. "I simply…I did not know if…"

"We were not sure if—"

Aragorn's eyes darkened. "Get in this House… _both_ of you." Feeling rather awful, both of them walked past him into the House, and he shut the door behind them, grumbling. "You two, who have become our dearest friends, who took care of my family while I was journeying, would think you are not welcome in my home? And where is Annî?" he asked, crossing his arms, staring at them both.

"Aragorn, _honestly_ ," Faramir groaned, rubbing his face, "you cannot _possibly_ have expected us to…we were afraid that we would..."

"We did not want to hurt either of you," Éowyn said hesitantly, softly. "We thought that if we gave you some time it might be easier to accept Annî here…or me, because…"

"Because you are with child?" he said rather bluntly. "You are here, and we will be fine. Sit down, and I will finish breakfast." He shook his head as he went back to the pan. "Seeing you brings me joy, Éowyn, not pain."

"We were not sure," Faramir said as he took a seat, watching the man's back. "You can hardly blame us, Aragorn."

"No," he agreed, his voice kinder, "no, I cannot."

"You are much stronger than I," he added softly. "I do not think I could look at Éowyn and not think…and not ask the question. I…I am sorry."

"Do not be," Aragorn replied. He did not feel very strong; had not in days, seeking Ilúvatar's strength constantly. "And it is not my strength, Faramir…it never has been."

Éowyn moved to take a seat, but stopped when she noticed the figure of Arwen in the doorway, leaning her head and shoulder against the doorframe, her hair wet; she was barefoot, and she wore a plain tunic and leggings that appeared to be overly large, yet Éowyn had seen her wear them before. It took her breath away to see her so changed, though she had to admit that the elf looked a hundred times better than she had covered with sweat and laying in fever.

"Good morning," Arwen said quietly, and her beautiful voice sounded so tired that Éowyn's eyes filled with tears. She walked over to her, reaching for her as she went. _Oh…please, do not hug me…_

"Oh, Arwen, I am so glad that you are well again," she whispered, and she wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight.

She _might_ have been able to hold it together had Éowyn not decided to hug her. It was difficult to speak; Arwen found that in the presence of the two people who had been with her in her darkest moments, she could hardly think of what to say. Laying her head on Éowyn's shoulder, the hug that the much younger woman had meant to be short turned into holding her.

" _Thank you_ ," Arwen whispered.

Éowyn hesitated, should she say…? Then she held her more securely and said, "I…I am _so sorry_ …" Arwen closed her eyes tightly, trying to prevent the tears. It did not work, and her knees grew weak. She suddenly felt Faramir's arms around both of them and he laid his head on Éowyn's, touching Arwen's hair.

" _You were there for me_ ," she whispered brokenly. She refused to sob as she had with Aragorn; that was for later, when they were alone. No, she had to begin again here, in this moment. If she could not talk to _them_ , her friends, how could she leave this House? How could she go back to the City, its people, the Council…she had to find a way to collect herself.

"We were so afraid we would never see you well again," Faramir said gently. "Thank Ilúvatar Aragorn arrived in time and that you are all right." Arwen opened her eyes and saw Aragorn standing near the table, watching her, his grey eyes full of understanding. He was judging the situation; asking her if she could handle it, ready to step in at any moment. She swallowed hard and lifted her head, both Éowyn and Faramir's hands on her face.

"Will you…will you be all right?" Éowyn asked her, beginning to release her. She raised a hand to wipe her face as she nodded.

"Time," she whispered, and Faramir took her elbow.

"Come and sit," he said. "You need something to eat." He drew her to the table and let her go; she stopped beside Aragorn for a moment where he laid a hand on her face and kissed her cheek. She covered his hand with her own, turned her face to kiss his palm, and then settled slowly into a chair at the table across from Éowyn. Faramir watched the two of them as Éowyn covered Arwen's hands with her own and held them, and then he moved to step up to Aragorn's side as he was putting sausages on a plate that already had some biscuits.

"She is weak," he said quietly and Aragorn nodded, glancing at him.

"She dreams; she has not been sleeping well. Her body is still recovering from the poison." He looked Faramir full in the face. "We are working on eating food even when we are not hungry."

"You do not appear as though you have had much rest either."

He gave Faramir a grim smile. "How can one rest when they are hurting, when _she_ is hurting? Rest will come, Faramir…with time." They took their places at the table and Aragorn took one of Arwen's hands in his own. "Faramir, will you say grace?"

The younger man looked up and then nodded. "Ilúvatar, the One, the All…Almighty…thank you for this food and the hands that made it. Thank you that you have rescued Arwen from the clutches of death. Bless each one at this table and give them strength. Amen."

"Amen." A few moments passed as they each collected some breakfast.

"Where is Annî, Éowyn?" Arwen asked her voice still so soft.

"She is at the house," Éowyn replied. "She was still sleeping when we woke this morning, so I asked Fera to watch her for a little while. We wanted to come and see you, to make sure you were all right. We have been so worried."

Aragorn nodded. "Thank you, both."

"Have you seen any of the families in Ecthelion recently, Faramir?" Arwen asked.

"How is the rebuilding coming?" asked Aragorn.

"Things are in motion," Faramir replied, "but with the chaos, not much had begun. The families were doing just fine as of yesterday. I went to see several of them, and they extended their love for you both…and their condolences."

"I will see them soon," Arwen said, brushing the last of the wetness from her cheeks, though she still did not begin eating. "I cannot…hide away in here forever, as much as I would like."

"You are entitled to recover," Faramir said. "The world can wait until you regain your strength, which could take a very long time since you are not eating."

"I do not find myself very hungry this morning," Arwen replied, though she did pick up her fork to maneuver the sausage around her plate. "But thank you for the encouragement."

"You must eat something," Éowyn told her. "At least the food is good." She raised her eyebrows at Aragorn and he did the same to her.

"Why thank you, Éowyn."

Faramir found it interesting that Aragorn was solicitous about Arwen, yet he did not say anything to her. Throughout their short meal, he allowed Éowyn and himself to chide her or encourage her to eat or smile, letting her get used to the flow of conversation again, used to the way people would perceive her. It was not very long that they were there before they had finished. It had been a subdued breakfast, but that was to be expected. He rose from the table as Aragorn began clearing away plates to be washed and gave Arwen a smile.

"I suppose we should be off," he said, "I want to make sure we visit those families today and get started on the rebuilding of the wall. Even in the snow, it is time for Gimli's folk and ours to get to work."

"Please tell them we are thinking about them. I will be out to see them myself…perhaps tomorrow," she said, trying to be hopeful. Faramir nodded.

"I will tell them. I know the children will be delighted to see you again."

"Faramir, may I speak with you for a moment?" asked Aragorn, and the man came around the table as Éowyn reached across to take Arwen's hands again.

"What is it, Aragorn?" he asked.

Aragorn lowered his voice. "I wanted to ask if you would do something for me."

"Anything."

"I know it will not be long now," he shook his head, "it cannot be long now, when the Council will come. Please, can you help me get us one more day? Just one more day of peace before the wolves descend?"

"That is a bit harsh," Faramir admitted. "Noldore and Dintîr—"

"Are not so bad," Aragorn agreed, "but there are others…they will not take this well, and I have no desire to confront them today, if possible."

Faramir glanced over his shoulder to see Arwen and Éowyn softly talking. "Do you think she is ready? Do you think she is strong enough?"

"What I think does not matter," he replied honestly. "Arwen alone knows how strong she is. She needs time to recover; perhaps a little visiting might help. Sometimes being alone is the worst thing, and sometimes the best. There are only so many tears you can shed, Faramir. Life moves on, and we must move with it…with time," he repeated. "I am glad you were here this morning."

"I am glad we came."

Faramir turned as Éowyn stood and he guided her towards the door. Arwen watched them go silently for a moment, but then she said suddenly, impulsively, "Will you be coming for dinner?"

They both turned back as Faramir opened the door. "We would love to," Éowyn replied, smiling. "What time should we come?"

"Sunset or so," Aragorn said, "we should be ready by then."

"Will you bring Annî?" asked Arwen. "She always makes me smile…and we could use to laugh."

"I have a better idea," Faramir interrupted. "How about the two of you come to _our_ house? Éowyn and I will cook, and you can see Annî, _and_ get out of this House at the same time. What do you think of that?"

Arwen hesitated but Aragorn answered for them. "It is perfect. Thank you both."

"Of course," Faramir said with a smile. "We shall see you around the same time, then."

And then with several goodbyes, they were out the door and down the porch. Aragorn turned back to the dishes until he noticed that his wife was sitting at the table with her head in her hands, her shoulders slumped. He went to her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his cheek on her hair.

"That did not go very well," she said. There were no tears in her voice as she took his arm in her hands, leaning back in the chair and laying her head against his chest.

"It was fine," he whispered, kissing her head. "They understand; they cannot know how we feel, but they understand our pain. They care about us; let them make us dinner tonight. You need to eat."

She knew how right he was. "I wish I was hungry…even just a little bit," she said softly. "My…sadness overwhelms every other feeling."

"It will be good for us to get out of this House for a little while, no matter for how short a time."

"It is _hard_ to keep the pieces of my heart together," she murmured, and her voice sounded heavy to him. "I cannot pretend everything is fine when…when it is not."

"No one will expect us to," he told her gently. "In time, it will be easier for us to laugh and smile, and not hurt every moment. We lost a son…no one should expect anything more from us."

But she felt those unspoken words in her heart: there were some who _would_ expect more from them, and she would not be able to rise to the challenge. She raised a hand to wipe her eye; it was leaking again. "When Éowyn hugged me, I thought I was going to fall apart. They were _there_ , Aragorn…they were there when I was in labor. Éowyn was the one who _told_ me that he was dead, that I had mi…mis…" She could not get the word past her lips; it stuck in her throat as her eyes involuntarily closed. She tried to get past it, to move on. "Faramir held me…" she said softly. "He was there…and I cannot remember him _not_ being there…he may have never left my side…"

"They were good to you," he said, stroking her hair. "They cared for you when…when you needed them most. I honor them."

"So we should go to dinner," she sighed, matter-of-fact.

"Definitely."

She nodded. "Can we…can we make time to visit Asfaloth and Brego today?"

He lifted his head and looked down at her, the way her shoulders were stooped, the way her eyes were closed, the way she leaned heavily against him. "You need to rest," he told her. "If you feel well enough in the afternoon, we will go, after you have had something more to eat."

She hesitated, and then raised her chin so she could look up into his face. "I cannot close my eyes," she said softly. "I am afraid of what I will see."

He stroked her hair again, then her face. "We will go and sit on the bed together, and I will read to you for a little while," he offered tenderly. "Then, you can sleep in my arms with your head on my heart, and I will hold you until you wake." He kissed her forehead. "I will not let those memories own you, Arwen. Let my love surround you, and protect you." Her eyes filled with tears.

"You… _you are too good._ Too kind…too patient…too wonderful."

"I love you," he said simply, as if it were reason enough. He took her hands in his own. "Come."

"What about breakfast?" she asked him as he drew her to her feet.

"The dishes will keep," he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she slid one of hers around his waist. He walked her towards their bedroom.

* * *

 _Almost as good as new_.

Enguina looked down at the wound as she stood behind a tree, her tunic unbuttoned. She feared nothing in these woods, and she certainly did not fear Legolas or Gimli; they were too good to her to bother her when she was completing her feminine tasks or checking on the wound. Requiring no help from Legolas to do anything with the wound, as healed as it was, she quickly removed the bandage completely. It was sealed now, and it looked quite good, though it was still sensitive to the touch and did pain her after long hours in the saddle. They had ridden for many hours today before they stopped for lunch, but that was best. It would be less time to Minas Tirith that way. Thankfully, they only had another day as it was and they were just about ready to get back on the road; they should reach Minas Tirith before nightfall tomorrow.

Buttoning up and straightening her tunic, she came out from behind the tree where she saw Legolas, looking a bit concerned. "And? How is it?"

She shook her head at him, smiling. "You are so silly! What are you worried about? I have been feeling fine! Do not be anxious over nothing, Legolas."

"I just wanted to be sure that you are as well as you say," he said frowning.

"The wound is completely healed over and scarred—"

"There is a _scar_?" he asked incredulously.

"I _meant_ that is has scabbed over," she said, rolling her eyes. "Please, Legolas, I am fine!"

He reached out and took her hand, tugging her towards him. "I will be the judge of that. Come here." Spinning her around by the hand, she laughed, falling into his arms and leaning against him. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and tilted his head towards her, chin down, so she could lay a kiss on him. "Mmm," he murmured, "you are definitely better."

She raised an eyebrow. "It cannot get much better than this."

"Get a move on, you two love birds!" hollered Gimli from near Lómë. "I thought you wanted to travel another ten miles before dark?"

"Coming!" called Legolas, and just as she was about to step away, he tugged her back to him and kissed her again, this time a bit longer. The dwarf snorted as he turned and scratched Lómë's neck.

"They're always kissing anymore," he laughed. "Getting a bit _annoying_ if anyone asks me, which I _know_ they're not. They should get a roo—"

 _THUNK!_ A snowball whacked Gimli in the back of the helmet and he roared and whirled around. Both Legolas and Enguina stood only a few feet away, both laughing.

"All right! Who threw that snowball?" he snarled, gathering snow into his gloves.

"She did it!" laughed Legolas, pointing at her and she gave him a dirty look.

"You told me _you_ would take the blame!"

"The first time I have ever lied to you," Legolas smirked and she stared at him, open-mouthed.

"The elf _does_ tell lies," Gimli admitted, "when the truth doesn't matter." He prepared to fling the snowball.

"Wait! But I am _wounded_!" she said, holding up her hands, palms out. "You cannot hit me with snow, Gimli, the wound might—"

"Wait just a moment!" exclaimed Legolas, staring at her. "You just told me that it was—"

 _THUMP_! A rather large snowball whacked right into the center of Legolas's chest, nearly knocking him off his feet. "That _hurt_ , you _lousy_ dwarf!" Legolas said, rubbing his chest.

"HA!" Gimli said a bit nastily. "Serves you right! If she can't get hit, then _you'll_ get it for—"

 _THUNK!_ Another snowball glanced off of Gimli's helm and he glared at Enguina who held up her hands again. Growling, he gathered another snowball and, refusing to give Legolas time to prepare, whipped it across the short distance where it glanced off his the elf's left shoulder.

"Why you—" Legolas ducked down towards the snow and began making and hurling snowballs as fast as he could in Gimli's direction, with extra ones coming from Enguina who was laughing. Hit with one or two himself, he refused to let up. Hurrying around the other side of Lómë, Gimli began making several snowballs from there and tossing them over the back of the black.

"You _know_ it was _her_ fault! She was letting _you_ take the assault!" Gimli yelled, and Lómë, a bit displeased about being in the middle of a snowball fight and being hit in the flank, shot forward, abandoning Gimli to certain death by snowballs.

He dived for the ground, rolling away and snatching some snow up in the process. He whipped two at them, got hit in the face and chest with himself, and heard two exclamations. He laughed, rolling onto his knees. "Nothing both of you didn't deserve! Take _that_!"

"Enough! Enough!" cried Enguina who was lying in the snow, laughing hilariously. Legolas stood over her, staring down into her face, snow in her hair.

"You threw that right in her _face_ , Gimli!" said Legolas, shooting him a quick glare. The dwarf stood and hurried over.

"I am _fine!_ " she laughed, looking up at them both. "Do not argue!"

"Good," Gimli sighed, shaking his head. "I was a bit worried I'd actually hurt you. But…you did deserve it, so I probably don't feel as bad as I should, even though I wasn't aiming for your face."

"I _did_ start it," she said, laughing some more. "Oh…I can never win against either of you! I am simply not a good snowball warrior."

"Perhaps when we get back to Minas Tirith," Legolas suggested, "we can have a battle. Perhaps the elves should take on…everyone else."

"You mean I get Faramir, Éowyn, _and_ Aragorn?" said Gimli. "HA! We're going to turn you three into snow-elves!"

"Do not be so sure, Gimli," said Enguina as her eyebrows rose. "Even if I am not the greatest, Arwen has deadly aim. You would not stand for long against her."

"And, undoubtedly," Legolas added, "the little one will be on our side as he gets older—"

"No," insisted Gimli, "he'll only be not even half-elven! He's mortal like me, therefore, on my side."

"Not if I teach him how to throw snowballs _first_."

"Fight nicely, children," Enguina laughed. Wanting to have the last snowball, and a bit irritated that Enguina had referred to him as a child, Gimli reached down, lifted a pile of snow, and suddenly dropped it—all over Enguina's middle. She shrieked aloud and laughed. " _Gimli!_ "

"You started that snowball fight," he said, and then shoved Legolas—hard. The shove was so unexpected, the elf stumbled over his feet before he fell on his side into a drift. "And _I_ ended it!" he laughed as he ran away.

Enguina could not help but laugh as Legolas flew to his feet and lunged after the dwarf. She had to sit up to watch the rest of Gimli's flight, but it was worth it. Three seconds it took Legolas to catch him, grab him by the shoulders and wrestle him to the ground. Within moments, _both_ of them were on the ground and Gimli was on top of the elf, growling as they tussled like two children.

She had never laughed so hard before.

* * *

By the time Aragorn and Arwen had reached the stable, they had seen twenty or so guards, including Captain Mennev and Hildanir, and nearly fifteen citizens, all who gripped their hands and had compassion for their loss…and some who even burst into tears at the sight of the two of them, walking along together, Arwen's hand on his arm. There was a single hand inside the stable when they arrived, and after expressing his condolences, he left them entirely alone as they began making their way down the long aisle. By that point, Arwen was leaning on him so heavily she was barely upright. She had been on her feet for nearly an hour; Aragorn knew it had been too much.

He stopped just a few feet down the aisle, and her feet stilled as well; he heard her let out the breath she had seemed to have been holding since they had left the House—it was more like a sob. Leaning down, he gently scooped her off her feet and into his arms. "We are alone," he said softly. "Let me carry you."

"I am all right," she whispered, but she laid her head against his chest.

"Your legs are trembling," he said, as he noticed, walking slowly down the aisle. He looked down into her face; there were tears on it again. "Are you…Arwen, are you in pain?"

She did not answer at first, and that, of course, let him know for certain that she did not want him to know the truth. _Everything_ hurt; she had not used any of her muscles in days and every single one of them hurt…but those that hurt the most were across her lower abdomen. She lifted her hand and laid it across the area. His eyes missed nothing as she opened hers.

"Will it _ever_ stop hurting?" she asked, looking into his eyes. "Or is it only a trick of my mind?"

He stopped, wishing he could cover her hands with his own. "You were in labor," he said, "and you were already in pain and ill from the poison. You need time to heal and for the soreness to go away."

"But…it _will_ go away?"

He nodded. "I think we should go back to the House until dinner," he decided. "You should drink some tea and lie—"

"No," she said firmly, shaking her head and then turning it to look down the aisle, "I want to see Asfaloth…and Brego."

"I do not think—"

" _Please_ ," she begged, looking back up into his face. "Just...set me down in the hay." He knew what she meant; she needed the peace that came from being around them, the silence of the barn, the sounds of horses…she loved them perhaps even more than he did.

He began walking again. "All right," he told her.

As they drew near to the end of the long barn, Firgenwine was the first to see them. Snorting and stamping her feet, Asfaloth and Brego shoved their heads out of their stalls and whinnied loudly. Brego was first along the stall doors, and so they reached him before Asfaloth, where he leaned down to smell her. Aragorn watched as Asfaloth stretched his neck like the trunk of a Mûmak, trying to reach her.

"Easy, friend," he said to him as Arwen reached up to stroke Brego's face, "give her a moment to see Brego." Asfaloth snorted impatiently and banged a hoof against the ground. The big bay, ignored him and brushed his soft nose to her cheek, then drew his face back to rub his forehead against Aragorn's face before returning his head to her, rubbing his lips along her shoulder.

She cupped her hand under his jaw, stroking it with her long fingers. "You saved my life, Brego," she said softly. "You brought my beloved home to me on the wings of eagles. You were so strong, and brave." He raised his nose to her face again, and she slipped her hand under his chin and kissed the end of the pink spot on his lips. "Thank you."

He breathed out a sigh, his eyes looking at Aragorn, as he lowered his head to her other hand, which still lay on her womb. Moving his nose against her hand, Aragorn took notice that Firgenwine, Dwimorisen, and Windfola were also standing with their heads out of the stalls, ears pricked forward, watching…waiting. Brego lifted his head and made several low noises. Arwen did not even need to ask Aragorn in order to know what it was that he said.

"No," he said gently, resting his forehead against Brego's star for a moment. "No, my friend, nothing could be done. He is gone."

Brego backed a step away and yanked his head back over the door suddenly. A tremendous whinny of anger, even grief, went up from the stall before them. _SNAP!_ The noise resounded as Brego's hooves echoed off the back wall of the stable, cracking one of the boards in half, and the other horses around took up his whinnying and began pinning their ears, chaos and sorrow swept through the barn. Asfaloth _reached_ for her, his lips extending out as he stretched his neck towards them as far as he could. He was not rearing and screaming as the others, so Aragorn took a step closer to him and the grey pressed his nose into Arwen's neck, breathing his sweet breath into her face. She lifted her hands to his face and slid them up to his ears, scratching them gently as the chaos in the barn ensued.

"What…what do they say to each other?" Arwen asked. She looked up into Aragorn's face, to find his eyes full of tears.

"They _grieve_ ," he said softly as he closed his eyes. Arwen rested her temple against Asfaloth's nose and he made several low sounds in his throat. Aragorn looked down into his eye. "All right." Asfaloth gently pulled his face away and moved back into the stall. Adjusting her a little bit in his arms, Aragorn reached forward and opened the stall door.

"What are you doing?" she asked, but when he entered the stall, she found Asfaloth in the center, just kneeling into the hay, flopping down onto his belly, his legs curled beneath him.

"He wants you to lay down with him, as you did when we were away," he explained to her, and Arwen felt the tears on her face. He lowered her and knelt down in the hay, placing her gently against Asfaloth's belly and shoulder. She turned, resting her cheek into his long thick hair, and he turned his head towards her, nearly wrapping over her. Tangling her fingers into his mane, she held onto him, now burying her face into his coat, her shoulders shaking with her tears. Aragorn knew, very well, that everyone's tears and words had already caught up with her…this was just her letting it out. He touched her hair, and stroked Asfaloth's neck a moment before he let them be.

He stepped out into the barn aisle, and held up a hand; the neighing and stamping of feet ground down to a halt. "My friends," he said, looking around at them, "your outrage is understandable, and because of your compassion for us, we are very grateful. Thank you, for your display of support and thoughtfulness." Leaning down, he scooped up a brush and a leaf of hay and headed into Brego's stall. The bay lifted his head, the whites of his eyes showing, making squealing noises as he trashed the ground with his front hooves.

"Easy, Brego," Aragorn said, holding out a hand towards him, and leaving the hay on the floor. "I know you are upset; it is all right." Brego threw his head again, squealing louder and then thrust his head into Aragorn's chest. He grabbed the bay's ears. "Stop that," he said, holding on tight as the bay tried to yank his head away, snorting. "No, I will _not_ let go…it is not your fault," he explained sternly. "We could never have made it; _never_ Brego. The babe was dying before we even reached Enguina's side." His voice was soft, full of pain with those last words; he did not want Arwen to hear what he had to say. Brego stopped struggling, lowering his head and resting his star against Aragorn's chest. "There was nothing we could have done, no way…no way." He rubbed the bay's ears as he nickered softly and Aragorn swallowed hard. "Someday," he whispered, "perhaps we will. It may not be for some time…we need time, Brego." More children? Aragorn could not even think about it at the moment; not so soon after losing the son they had not even been able to hold.

He stroked the bay's neck. "Have you recovered from our flight?" he asked, trying to move on. "We arrived just in time to save her life. She told you the truth, you know; she would have died without you. You were the fastest and bravest horse a man could ever ask for as a friend." He reached down and lifted the bay's head so that he could look in his eyes. "Mellon nîn, the deeds you have done for me…you have saved my life countless times and the one whom I love. You bore me with such speed that none other could ever have done. For your faithfulness, for your love, I wish to add to your very name. From now on, only we shall know you as Brego; to all others, you shall be _Métimastaldo Bregothalion_ , the ultimate valiant, quick, and strong. You are my friend and one whom I dearly love. Hannon le, mellon nîn." He kissed the center of Brego's forehead, and the horse lifted his head, standing to his full height.

For the first time in some time, Aragorn smiled. "Yes, it suits you. Bear it proudly, my friend."

He brushed Brego; he found that Faramir had taken excellent care of him after he had arrived and so had the stable hands. This was of great relief to him, and it meant that it did not take him long to groom and care for him. He did not rush on purpose, but he wanted to check on Arwen to make sure that she was all right. Aragorn left the stall and Brego popped his head over Asfaloth's, eager to see Arwen for himself as the man entered.

She remained where he had set her down, Asfaloth's head turned back towards her, watching her just as Brego was. Her fingers were still twisted in his mane, her cheek now pressed somewhere along his back, her eyes closed, her face wet. Asfaloth nickered at him, and he stroked the horse's neck gently.

"I know," he said softly, and he knelt down beside him, reaching out to run his fingers through her hair.

"What did he say?" she asked softly, her voice thick. He laid his hand against her head.

"He said you need to lie down; you are…in pain."

"I _am_ lying down," she replied, breathing in the earthy smell of the grey's skin. "Can we stay here…a little longer?"

Wiping the tears from her eyes, he appeared torn. "Can you be honest with me?" he asked, his voice firm.

"I…yes. It hurts," she admitted, "but it has eased a bit from resting here. I _want_ to stay, Aragorn…just a little while longer. We still have a few hours before dark."

"That might not give you much time to rest at home, though, I am wondering if maybe we should wait to go to Faramir's—"

"I will be fine," she said. "Sit with me?" He nodded, and took his place beside her, leaning against Asfaloth himself and reaching over to wrap her in his arms. She lifted a hand as Brego reached down toward her and she tickled his chin with her fingernails.

"You are shivering," Aragorn said in her ear, making sure that she was wedged between him and Asfaloth's body heat. She lowered her arm and tucked it back against the grey's body as Aragorn laid his head on hers.

"I am cold," she whispered guiltily as Aragorn covered her icy hands with his own. Asfaloth once again stretched his neck out and snatched his rug hanging from the stall door with his teeth. He dragged it down and yanked it over to Aragorn. Arwen smiled as the man opened it up and wrapped it over the three of them. "Asfaloth, so thoughtful," she whispered, stroking his nose. Asfaloth sighed.

Aragorn stroked her hair. "Sleep, love." He repeated Asfaloth's words to her, and laid his head back down against hers as she closed her eyes.

* * *

When Aragorn and Arwen arrived at Faramir's home, the first thing that happened was that Andúnêiel launched herself from the adjoining room, running full tilt towards them.

"Tirion! Tiriel!" she called, throwing herself into Aragorn's legs as he released Arwen and swung her up into his arms. "You have snow!" she said quite clearly, trying to pick snowflakes out of his hair.

Aragorn grinned at her. "Annî, you have become quite the speaker since I have been away."

"Where did you go?" she said, frowning. But she reached towards Arwen, who took her hand and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"I was on a trip," he said, kissing her other cheek. "It was very snowy and dangerous, but we are home now."

"Legess and Gimi and Eguna?" she questioned and Arwen could not help but really smile for the first time in days.

"They will be home soon," he said, closing the door behind him with his foot as Éowyn and Faramir entered the room. Faramir opened his mouth to greet them, but Annî turned to Arwen.

"Tiriel was sick," she stated.

"Yes," Aragorn said gently, "she was. But now she is better."

"Everyone was sad."

"I know," he agreed.

Faramir stepped up to his side. "Annî, why do you not come help your Mother set the table and get some tea for Tiriel?"

Aragorn set her down and she scampered away to grab the kettle for Éowyn. He reached back and guided Arwen forward with a hand on her back. Faramir reached over and tugged several sticks of hay from her hair.

"Do I even want to _know_ —"

Aragorn leaned over and slugged him in the shoulder. "Get your mind in the right place," he chastised as Faramir laughed. "We were down visiting the horses and came straight from there."

He held up his hands, laughing as Arwen rolled her eyes, but smiled. "All right! All right! I was only teasing!"

"Come here and sit down, Arwen," said Éowyn, reaching out to take her arm and maneuver her towards the table, "where all the intelligence is." Faramir laughed, shaking his head. Then, he leaned conspiratorially towards Aragorn.

"Besides, I tried that once…did _not_ go well at all."

Aragorn gave him a little smirk as he pulled him back closer so that he could whisper into his ear, "I _know_ …you did not have any silent witnesses."

Faramir's eyebrows shot up and he turned and looked at him. "The _horses_?"

"They do talk, you know."

"Well, _that_ was a conversation they should have left out!" Faramir laughed out loud, blushing a bit. Éowyn looked up, hands on her hips.

"What in the world are you two rambling about over there?" Both men looked over and Faramir blushed more deeply. Arwen, resting her chin on her hands, smiled at them as Éowyn continued. "And why are you so red, Faramir?"

"It is nothing," Aragorn interrupted innocently. "I promise."

She narrowed her eyes at him as they neared the table. "I suppose I will have to believe you."

"You should not doubt me," Aragorn said, leaning over to kiss her cheek in greeting. "Thank you, again, for hosting us tonight."

"Food!" cried Annî, plopping down in her chair.

"It is no trouble at all," she replied. "We are more than happy to have dinner here with both of you." The dinner had already been laid out, and so once the men took their seats, they took each other's hands. Éowyn began a brief prayer: "Eru, bless this food and the hands that made it. May you nourish the bodies of those who eat it. Bless those who are gathered here and those who are on the road traveling. May we ever look to you for strength and hope. Amen."

"That was beautiful, Éowyn," Faramir said, and she blushed, preferring not to respond as the food began to be passed around.

It was a lovely dinner, and the food was good. It was the first time in days that Arwen actually felt like eating, even though she did not eat very much but what she had was delicious. Everyone said so, and she found herself enjoying their time together. Finally, the full story of the journey to rescue Enguina was brought to light, and everyone was glad to hear that if their timing was good, they would arrive home soon. The talk and the companionship made her feel _alive_ ; but after an hour or so of entertaining and being entertained, she was tired, though she tried not to let it show. She needed to push herself, to get back into her life.

Annî was precious; finally, she was talking about everything, from snow to toys to 'Legless' to her father to horses. Arwen was amazed at how much the little girl had changed in just a few days. She was playing with her dessert at the moment, which was some sort of pie Éowyn had made, and Arwen watched her, fascinated at how entertaining Annî even found the fork to be.

"Arwen…are you sure you are not still hungry? You look as though you could eat more," Éowyn suggested, and Arwen smiled at her.

"I promise that I am full. I know I appear famished," she admitted, "but I can only fit so much in my stomach."

Éowyn appeared horrified. "I did not mean to imply—"

"Please, it is nothing," she said. "Do not even worry about it."

"Éowyn, this meal was delicious," Aragorn told her.

"Can my woman cook or what?" asked Faramir and Arwen smiled, knowing what was coming.

Éowyn shot him a dirty look down the table. " _Your woman_?"

"Well, you are my wife! Therefore, my woman." He shrugged as Annî giggled and he grinned. "It makes perfect sense."

Éowyn growled, "Perfect sense _my_ —"

Suddenly, a huge flop of pudding became airborne and landed on Aragorn's plate with a _plop,_ splashing onto the table and his pie. He looked up to see Annî waving a spoon and laughing hilariously; Arwen, seated beside him of course, was also laughing, covering her mouth at Éowyn's shocked expression as Faramir doubled over, roaring with laughter as well.

"Faramir!" cried Éowyn, assuming he had caused whatever had happened. "Control your daughter! This is our _dinner_ table!"

He burst out laughing again. "What? It was hilarious!" Arwen continued to laugh and so did Annî, waving the spoon. Aragorn looked down at the pudding and then up at Faramir, narrowing his eyes. "It is not _my_ fault she thought you should have a second helping of pudding!"

"When she is bad, she is definitely _your_ daughter!" Éowyn hissed.

"You taught her that," Aragorn insisted, "I _know_ you did."

"He better _not_ have!" said Éowyn, and Faramir could almost see the smoke coming out her ears. "Annî, put that spoon down right now; you know better!"

She looked guilty and put the spoon slowly down on the table. "Sorry, Mommy," she said, and Éowyn nodded.

"She has great aim!" cried Faramir, reaching over to pat her on the back. "Going to be an archer, just like her father, hmmm?" Annî grinned at him as she put more pudding in her mouth; she had no idea what that meant.

"As long as she is not as _silly_ as you, it would not matter to me what she chooses to be," Éowyn said, rubbing her face. "How in the world I am going to deal with three children in the house, I shall never know."

Arwen smiled at her, watching Annî eat her pudding. "If anyone can manage, it is you."

She rolled her eyes. "Not if the two of them behave like Faramir. I will be grey long before I become old!"

"Well," Faramir said, rising and placing some dishes on the counter, "since there is a ton of white fluffy stuff outside…" He leaned down and put his face right in Annî's. "Would some little girl like to go outside and make…a snow man?!"

"Daddy!" yelled Annî with joy and he pulled a heavier tunic off the hook by the door and yanked it on over his head. Pulling a heavier tunic on Annî as she tried to run around him on the floor was a bit of a challenge until Aragorn stood up to help him. Éowyn rose.

"I will finish the dishes—"

"Come along outside, Éowyn," Faramir said, "we shall do them when we come inside. You two, as well. Let us see how big of a snow man we can build!"

"Yea!" cried Annî, and she grabbed Arwen's hand. "Tiriel, build with me."

"All right, love," the elf replied, and she allowed Annî to drag her off the porch and into the snow. Determined to keep a close eye on her and to try and enjoy himself, Aragorn followed them out as Éowyn was wrapping her cloak about her shoulders. As soon as he stepped out onto the porch, he was hit in the chest with a snowball.

"Sorry! Had to at _least_ once!" hollered Faramir from down the steps and Aragorn shook his head, glancing around to see Minas Tirith, once again covered with snow. This had to be the whitest winter so far on record; he had seen more snow this year than there had been since he had become King. He sighed and gave in, grabbing a bunch of snow into his hands and flinging it off the porch, with perfect aim, into Faramir's back as he was kneeling on the ground rolling a big ball about the street. Arwen was rolling another as Annî was rolling _herself_ in the snow. When the ball hit him, Faramir only laughed and kept rolling.

"Well, Annî is being _very_ helpful," laughed Éowyn and Aragorn smiled.

"She is a child," he said, shrugging. "At this age, her goal is to create as much fun for herself as possible."

"I…cannot believe how fast she has grown," she replied, resting her hands over her womb. "I will be due in another few months, very early June…that time is bound to fly as well."

He could not _help_ it. It was not his fault and it was bound to have happened sooner or later, and many more times in the future, but the thoughts flew through his mind…he very nearly said out loud that they would be due in mid-March. But he stopped himself, of course, realizing in the next half-second that they would not be; his child was gone. From the first time since Faramir had said the words to him on the street before the King's House, his heart nearly stopped beating and it hurt to breathe. He was silent for a moment, as he collected himself, and Éowyn rested her hand on his arm.

"I am so sorry, Aragorn," she whispered; she understood his silence.

He shook his head, tilting his head to look at her with a little smile. "It is no one's fault. Do not be sorry, Éowyn; it will be difficult for some time. You are with child, and we are very happy and excited for you and Faramir." He turned back to look at Annî in the snow. "She will love having a brother or sister."

"Yes, she will." Determined to move on, determined to not discuss how he felt about losing a son, it did not take Aragorn long to join them in the snow, helping to roll the final ball for the snowman. They placed finishing touches on him, including a scarf; Faramir went inside to get some food to make his face, and they were kneeling around him admiring him with Annî dancing around in the falling snow.

It was Annî's joy that made Arwen cry for the first time that night. To see her dancing around and throwing herself in snow piles, to watch Faramir and Éowyn laugh at her, to see Éowyn with her hands resting on her womb as she was nearly four months pregnant…it was too much. They were a _family…_ that was what she had for a moment…just a moment. And one madman had taken that away from them, from her beloved and herself. She was already tired, already sore…and she had pushed herself to the limit that her emotions could take for one day.

Her lips trembled. She tried to hide what was happening to her, knew that it was very possible a much more serious breakdown was seconds away. How could she get out of here fast enough? It was impossible, and it was far too late for that. Her thoughts were so focused on the child that she missed the one who had danced to a halt right in front of where she was kneeling. As she reached up to wipe the first tears away, Annî took her face in her hands.

"Tiriel, why are you sad?" Arwen could not answer her, so the girl wrapped her little arms around her neck, laying her head on Arwen's shoulder. The elf slipped an arm around her tiny waist and held her, but she could barely _breathe_.

 _Emotion overload_. Her brain could not even respond; desperate to control herself, to keep the pieces of her heart together, she fought not to start sobbing. She fought the images of what she had hoped to be, of holding her own child the way she held Annî, to have her own son here, playing in the snow at two years of age…the images, the hopes and dreams she had…gone. They could not ever happen now.

With tears pouring down her face, her chest practically heaving as she fought to control herself, she opened her eyes and caught Aragorn walking toward her. _I cannot_ _ **do**_ _this!_ She called it in his head, mouthed it at him before she could not keep her eyes open any longer. Her arm dropped from around Annî as Aragorn knelt down beside her.

"Annî," he said gently, "go with your father. It is getting cold now; time to go inside."

She kissed Arwen's wet cheek and released her neck. "Love you, Tiriel, Tirion," she said, and she scampered away as Aragorn wrapped his arms quickly around Arwen as she began to come apart, pulling her into him. Her fingers tangled themselves into the front of his tunic, her breath coming out in gasps now, her shoulders shaking, the trembling starting through her whole body. _Not here, not here…not in front of everyone…Breath of Heaven, hold me together! Lord, I need you! I need you!_

"Shh…shh…" Aragorn said, resting his head on hers, pressing her face to his neck, his hand on the back of her hair. If he let her go now, she would collapse into the snow.

"Is she all right?" Éowyn asked, and he lifted his head to meet her eyes. She knew, just as she drew close, that Arwen was most certainly _not_ all right. Her face was contorted with tears and grief, and it broke Éowyn's heart, took her back to that moment when Arwen's voice raised to a wail as she lay in her bed. "What can I do?" she whispered, and behind her Faramir was escorting Annî into the house, but pausing to look back from the porch, just as worried as she was. "Please, Aragorn… _anything_ …"

He shook his head. "I need to take her home."

"Is there…is it something—"

"No," he said, his voice catching, "none of this is anyone's fault. Please, just…pray for us." His eyes flooded with tears at Arwen's pain, her hands trembling against his chest. "As you have been, Éowyn," he whispered. "We will see you in the morning. Go inside, it is cold."

Éowyn hesitated, and then reached down to brush her fingers against Arwen's back. "We love you both. Whatever you could need, please…just ask us. Anything, Aragorn."

" _Pray_ ," he asked, and as she stepped back, he scooped Arwen up into his arms for the second time today. "Just pray." She touched his shoulder, and then he turned and walked away towards the King's House. But she stood out in the falling snow, praying just as he asked, until she could not see them anymore, her heart aching for them. It was several minutes before she turned back to the porch and later that evening, after they had put Annî to bed, she and Faramir spent a long half-hour praying earnestly together for healing.

* * *

 _Finally!_

Legolas led Enguina by the hand away from the fire and out into the moonlight. He had been waiting all night for Gimli to fall asleep, and the moment the dwarf had, he had caught her hand and maneuvered her away from the fire. A few moments away from Gimli's snores, a few moments of silence and…even a few moments of romance in the moonlight.

He heard her giggle behind him, and he had to stop and turn to face her as she moved in close, resting her hands against his chest, the moonlight reflecting in her eyes. Having been planning some sort of ridiculous one-liner the entire time, the moment he caught sight of her, out here in the glittering snow, he was stunned to silence. She stole his one-liner instead.

"Why, Legolas," she whispered, leaning against him, raising her eyebrows, "this is very sudden. So… _unlike_ you, to get me alone in the moonlight."

He might have laughed at her words, but he was so stricken by her that her words never even really registered in his brain. "God…" he whispered, and the tease came off her face as his fingertips traced from her cheek to her ear to her neck, "you are stunning tonight…the most beautiful thing Ilúvatar ever made. Is that possible?"

"You…are prejudiced," she whispered, but she was more astonished to find that she was not uncomfortable with the fact that he found her beautiful. It was…so different, hearing the words from him. It was because he loved her for more than just a thought of fleeting beauty; Legolas _loved_ her…for who she was. He saw her for herself, and if he thought she was beautiful, it meant something to him.

"No, I am not," he said honestly, shaking his head. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, inside and out. We are going to be home in another day…and then we will be back in Minas Tirith."

"That will be a good thing," she replied, her voice still as low as his. "We will see Arwen."

"You have been pushing yourself too hard," he said. "I know the wound is healed, but you are going to be exhausted tomorrow when we ride into the City…and then we will find no time for peace. No silence in the quiet woods, out beneath the stars…no time just for ourselves…where we can be alone… _really_ alone…"

"What…what are you saying, Legolas?" she asked, her heart beating quickly in her chest. There were a hundred different things he could say that might follow that sentence; some frightened her…some ignited her heart.

 _O Ilúvatar_ …if he had the courage…he would ask her to be his wife, right now… _this moment_. His heart was forever hers; there was no going back, no returning to a place of safety, he was lost in this moment with her and consumed by his love for her. He did not have the courage to ask her right now, even as moved as he was…and he did not have the ring. Dare he ask her, without such a gift and pledge? And was it too soon? But no, he could not ask…not now, not even as his fingertips brushed against her throat, feeling her pulse leaping like a deer beneath them.

"I…wrote you something," he whispered instead, mentally kicking himself, tilting his head so close to hers that their noses could brush. "Would you like me to…sing it for you?"

Her knees grew weak. "You wrote me a song?" she murmured and he covered the hands on his chest with one of his own.

"Yes," he answered. And suddenly, his face reddened as he blushed. "I have never had cause to write such words before. But…it is from my heart, and I have waited all day for this and we are alone…shall I sing it for you?"

"I might need to sit down," she admitted without shame. He smiled so sweetly, her legs almost gave out right then, but he took her hands and led her over to sit on a very convenient log that had happened to have fallen over, it seemed, just for them. He knelt before her, keeping her hands in his and bringing them to his lips, kissing her fingertips and then her hands, resting his forehead against them.

If there was ever a moment where Enguina felt she had lost sight of everything else in her entire life, this was it. Thoughts of Legolas consumed her and all thought of anything except him was gone. She wondered, in this lost moment of space and time, what it would be like to feel those lips pressed to the skin of her arms, her neck. She never thought she would have _wanted_ someone to touch her like that, not after what had happened to her, but this was Legolas. Watching him, his eyes filled with love and devotion to her, made her heart race; the way his lips tenderly pressed to her skin made her yearn to feel more, made her want to be close to him in a way she had never wanted to be close to anyone.

Should that have frightened her? Should that have made her want to pull her hands away? By all rights, yes, but it also made her realize that she wanted to be with Legolas more than any other person on the earth. This man, who loved her…she would pledge herself to him. Lord in Heaven, she already had told him in every way possible with her words except for explicitly saying that she would cleave to him and him alone. _I will be your anchor, Legolas, and my devotion will be true._ Those were the words she had spoken.

And then, as she looked upon him, he raised his head and his beautiful voice flooded her ears:

 _My love within the moonlight shines_

 _Lily-white and slender_

 _Long, golden hair flows free and wild_

 _Green eyes with tender love_

 _She stands, a vision! Among the trees,_

 _Where snow and moonlight shimmer_

 _I gaze, cannot turn my head away,_

 _Love-light of my stirring soul!_

 _To see, to hear, to touch, to know_

 _Beside her, life is new_

 _Her laughter, music to my ears_

 _Her every desire met_

 _Forever my love for her will remain_

 _Time, no limit; love, no bounds_

Her eyes had flooded with tears somewhere in the middle of his song; the beauty of it struck her, his love overpowering. She looked down into his eyes as he reached up and ran his fingers along her cheek. What overpowered her the most was that she knew he meant every word.

"You…move my heart," she whispered, her lips trembling. She should not have spoken yet; perhaps if she had waited she could have collected herself a bit more, but tears fell on her face. " _I love you_."

He smiled at her, lowering his head to kiss her hands. "I meant every word," he replied softly. "I will spend every day in Minas Tirith at your side until you send me away."

She laughed suddenly through her tears, pulling him up to sit beside her. "As if I ever would! You could write me poetry every day; I would never tire of your voice. You could talk about _nothing_ …and it would not matter. You are so full of peace, Legolas. I am in awe of it." She hesitated for a moment. "Do you really believe I am that beautiful?"

"So beautiful you distract me?" he asked. "Yes," he replied honestly, with not a hint of sarcasm. "Yes, you are beautiful, Guin…inside and out. I do not know if anyone ever told you before—"

"Yes," she said, her voice soft, "but…not the way you say the words. You say them…in a way that I barely understand. With…with _reverence_."

"When I said that I think you are the most beautiful creature Ilúvatar ever created, I meant it. Something that special," he said tenderly, "deserves to be spoken of with great respect. To have you here with me, to be allowed to sit at your side, to hold you…it is an honor, a pleasure I have never known."

She kissed him then, and their arms encircled each other. She finally laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes full of tears at his words, and she said, with quiet wonder, "What kind of love is this? So deep…it casts out all fear; so great…it scatters the darkness; so gentle…it brings peace to the heart; so beautiful…it captivates the soul within. Ilúvatar…what a blessing you have made to my heart! May I ever remember how you have set me apart with _this_ love that you have so wonderfully bestowed upon me."

They stayed there, in that glen full of beauty until the early morning hours, when finally, they turned back to sleep a little while and prepare for the last miles of their journey. To Gondor; to home.


	33. Chapter 33

Author's Note: There are words in this chapter that are taken from Psalm 121 in the Bible. I do not own them, lol, nor The Bible!

* * *

" _Fair love, lie still."_

 _The words came to her as she lay there at the base of that hill, her dress up and cut open, his hands on her breasts. His trousers were undone, and he was hovering over her, his knees digging hers into the earth. She was struggling, her fingers slicing against the knife that held the rope that bound them. He was going to take her…he was going to take her and there was no escape. The sun was rising yet darkness was washing over her in great waves. No one was coming to rescue her; there was no hope._

 _"You are the fairest of the fair; this is the way you deserve to be loved."_

 _Deserve to be loved?_ This _is what she deserved—to be tied to the ground, touched and kissed against her will, ravaged by some animal? No, it was wrong! His hands were moving, feeling her, and his mouth touched down in the center of her breasts as she began to cry, desperate to get away. Terror was coursing through her, and in her dreams she called out for one that had not even been there…she had not even known him then. But he might rescue her…he had proven himself before…_

 _His hands were touching her in places they should never have been, and she writhed beneath him, her shoulder aching and her hands gripping the blade, trying to yank it out as it cut deep into her skin, cutting into her flesh._

 _He grabbed the hem of her dress, yanked it up and over her hips and out of his way. She panicked again, trying to wrestle away from him, but he held her down, the fingers of his left hand gripping her breast, his right holding her struggling hip—he was already kneeling on her knees. His fingers gripped her undergarments…there was only one place this would end…pain…pain…_

She woke to his voice in her ear, but could not hear it over the end of her scream. Her vision swam, her head spinning; she simply could not get enough air into her lungs and her stomach recoiled, her own screams of pain echoing through her head, the feeling of _him_ that she could not shake away. Enguina thrashed once; felt Legolas's arms lock around her. _Not good…not good!_

"Guin…it is all right…all right…shh…" But even _he_ knew it was different this time; something was different. Her body was stiff, her chest heaving; she would not look at him, was not calming. He lifted one hand to touch her sweaty forehead and she withdrew quickly from the brush of his skin against hers.

" _L…Le…_ " her words stuttered out of her mouth, and even Gimli sat up; his snores had not been enough to drown out her screams. Legolas hesitated to touch her again.

"I am here," he said, but he realized in another moment as she tried desperately to break his grip on her body, her breathing growing harsher, that he could hear her whimpering, that she was not trying to say his name. " _Guin_ —"

" _Let me go!_ " she forced out, and he hesitated. Her whimpering got louder as she fought him. Yes, this was different…this dream was very different; whatever she was experiencing was too much for her brain. " _Please…please…please Eru have mercy!_ " She wept, choking on the words and he released her, unable to think of anything else to do, his mind a blank at her words.

Enguina shot forward as she broke through his grip, crawling on her hands and knees, gasping as she escaped the closeness of his arms; he could see her blindly moving. Legolas sat up immediately, readying himself to grab for her if she needed it but feeling utterly helpless; Gimli came nearer to them, watching. He opened his mouth to ask if she was all right. She stumbled on her hands and knees until she was ten feet from where she had been lying in his arms; she began heaving without control, unable to prevent herself, every aspect of the nightmare so vivid in her mind.

Legolas threw himself to his feet; was it the nightmare? Was she ill again? What in the world—

Gimli caught his arm, shaking his head. "I don't know if touching her right now's a good idea."

"I _have_ to go to her," he said, his body like a coiled piece of metal. "How can I—" He stopped responding and moved directly to her when he saw her strength finally give out and she collapsed onto her side, sobbing. "Guin, Guin," he whispered, and he reached down touching her arm with just the tips of his fingertips. No, this was the dream…not that she was ill again.

" _No…_ " she groaned, writhing away from him, but he would not have that. He took her in his arms, laying her upper body in his lap, pressing her back to him. " _Stop…stop…_ "

"I cannot," he told her, "you are in pain and I cannot bear it. At least…at least let me hold you."

She let him keep his hands on her, but that was all she would allow. If he reached to wipe her tears away, she flinched as though he had slapped her; if his hands moved from her arm, she tried to wrench away and he had to begin again. The best he could do was hold her, whisper to her that everything was going to be all right…even when he had no idea if it would be. Her pain was excruciating; the cries in his head so full of pain.

It took nearly an hour before she was quiet in his arms, before she let him lay a hand against her cheek without reaction. Her nails had dug deep furrows in the ground before them. He wiped the last tear from her face. "Guin…Guin, can I not—"

" _No_ ," she said, and it was the only word he would get out of her for another few minutes no matter what he said or asked. Finally, Gimli touched Legolas's shoulder and handed him a mug of tea for her. He mouthed his thanks to the dwarf.

"Here," he said gently, and he unhooked her nails from the dirt and placed the cup in it. "Warm your hands at least, and drink some tea." That she would not refuse, and so she obeyed him, carefully sipping tea that he helped her drink. It was some time until it was finished before she spoke, sitting up against him now, his one arm around her waist, the other hand over hers holding the trembling hand where the mug was shaking.

She could not recover so easily; she was trying, but every time she blinked she saw _his_ face behind her eyes. This nightmare was staying with her tonight; she tried to fight it back. Her voice was so quiet he barely heard her when she spoke to him. "You cannot ask me."

There were a _million_ things he wanted to say to her, and 'very well' was not one of them. _What the_ ** _hell_** _? What in Eru's name, what in the name of all things holy, happened to her? What am I to do? How can I possibly help her? Help me, Father!_ "Can I do nothing?" he asked. She shook her head slowly, so exhausted. "You are in—"

"Yes," she whispered. "Leave it."

It was, literally, the most difficult thing he had ever had to do. He had never felt such agony; there was nothing he could do to touch this, to take this from her, not until she was ready to share this burden with him…whatever this was. She was not denying him; she had just told him straight that she was in pain, she had agreed with him. But beyond that, she was asking him to _not_ ask, to not try to help; how could he? He slowly leaned forward and pressed his lips to her hair. He could not tell her he would leave her be, but he did not have to. There would be no more talk of it tonight; she could feel it as she leaned her head back against his shoulder, closing her eyes. Tears came to them—in no way could she tell him this; this pain was her burden, it was _her_ soul-shattering, mind-numbing pain…and it would change him. It would change how he felt; even when he swore it would not.

So she could not tell him…and she did not tell him. Not even after they sat there for another ten minutes in silence and she fell into an exhausted sleep against his shoulder. He just held her…there was nothing more he could do.

* * *

Aragorn made his way back down to the Council Chambers in the Tower of Ecthelion. It was about ten o'clock in the morning and he had just left Arwen visiting among the upper levels. He had been loath to leave her side, but she had been firm, even after last evening. He was exhausted; so was she…her nightmare had been so terrible she had shared it between their minds in her sleep. They had woken together, her wailing, a yell on his lips, before the two of them had come together, weeping. They had left their bed, unable to be in that place anymore, and lain together on the rug in front of the fire as they comforted one another.

It had taken him an hour to bring her to peace after they had left Éowyn's house; he could only pray that today went better. Each day, they would get a little bit stronger…he knew that; he knew that everyone else knew it, too. The misplaced citizens in Ecthelion seemed so pleased to have Arwen _alive_ that even bringing up the child in words was out of the question. A touch of a hand to a shoulder or arm was enough to know that they were praying, sympathizing…perhaps this would be good for them both.

 _My Lord, be near to me. Give me strength…grant me wisdom…words…peace…_

Aragorn took a deep breath…and walked into the Council Chambers to much exclamation. It appeared that Faramir had been speaking, and even _his_ face shown with surprise at Aragorn's entrance. Some of the men stood, Noldore, Dintîr, Gildion even Nardur; many of them stared, some of them covered their mouths with woe, some tried to smile. Yes, he knew their many emotions, and he bowed his head to them, coming up to the table, but not taking his seat. He did not intend to stay.

Graciously, Faramir raised an arm and silence ensued. Noldore was the first to speak as everyone was seated and Aragorn rested his hands on the table. "Elessar, it is good to have you back among us." His eyes were filled with compassion. "The Queen is well once more because of your healing, and our people rejoice for their King's return. We _all_ rejoice for it."

"Thank you, Noldore," he said in his quiet way. "It is good to be home."

"Tell us of your journey," Nardur insisted, leaning forward on the table. "You rode into Minas Tirith alone. Were you able to find the girl?"

"The Lady Enguina is safe," he replied. "Legolas and Gimli are making their way home with her as we speak. After nearly three days in the saddle, we came upon them, but it came down to battle, and not one of them survived. When I learned what was happening at home, I made haste to return. I will make a report giving detail of the encounter, and the parties responsible. There is at least one man whose family I know quite well, and they will be grieved. I will see to them myself, of course."

"It was a trap," Nardur said softly, and everyone turned to look at him as he stared into the eyes of the King. "Before your journey we were worried it was a trap, and now…now _look_ what has happened? Gondor's hope for an heir—devastated! He is dead, and all of our hearts are so grieved—"

"How _is_ the Queen?" asked Dintîr, interrupting Nardur's rant.

"Where is she now?" asked Gildion.

"She is with the people, upstairs within the Tower," Aragorn replied, choosing to avoid talk of the child for as long as he could. "The Queen is…weak from the poison. It will take some time for both of us to return to our duties in full capacity. I pray for your patience during this difficult time."

"How long?" asked Nardur, but not coldly. "Do not forget that this is a difficult time for Minas Tirith as well, having lost nearly an entire level to fire and explosive power."

Aragorn firmed his lips before responding, shaking his head. "I cannot give an answer, Nardur. How…how long does it take one to grieve? I do not know." The room was silent as he spoke. "You say that Gondor has lost an heir? _We_ have lost our little boy. The agony—" His voice broke off and he cleared his throat, determined to keep himself together, "is more difficult to bear than anything. We will be here for the people as much as we can. It will be a few weeks before I can tell you more.

"In the meantime, when Lord Gimli returns, he, his people, and ours will begin the rebuilding of the fourth level. Faramir will oversee for the time being. There are funerals that need to take place for the fifteen that were killed in the fire and those with family from the attack; the City has been in turmoil for the last two weeks. We will try to lower the level of chaos. The Queen and I will be present whenever we can, as much as we can."

"Elessar," said Noldore softly, "no one could ever expect anything more than what you can give. You and the Queen need time to grieve; please take it."

"I thank you, all of you, for your understanding and your condolences," he said to them, looking around the table.

"Will you be holding a funeral for—" began Gildion.

"No," Aragorn said, swallowing hard so that he might speak. "There will be nothing formal. If anyone brings gifts to us, they will be given to those upstairs; please see to this for me. The Queen and I have already decided, and she has been through enough. Faramir told me that Talf and the Healers have…seen to everything. Let him lie; there is no need for such a public display and…our hearts cannot take it."

"But the people—"

"Let them grieve in their own way. I am…sure that there will be a marker set for him in the Silent Street," he said his voice still soft. "They may lay their flowers or condolences for him there. The King's House, when I returned, was adorned with holly and ivy; that is enough. I know that all of you will help spread the word about this. The Queen and I are not the only family that has lost a child in the last two weeks, as we are all aware."

"We will honor your requests as much as possible," Noldore said. "Our hearts are with you, Elessar."

"Our gratitude to all of you." He cleared his throat. "I am to return upstairs to visit with several more of the families with the Queen. If there is something that you need of me, please send a messenger to me; I will do whatever I can." _When I can be found…when I do not make us scarce within the City_. He sighed internally. _You cannot hide forever, Aragorn._ He bowed his head to them. "Good day, my Lords. Again, our City is in good hands when it lies with you."

He turned and went out.

* * *

 _Unto the hills around do I lift up my longing eyes._

 _O whence for me shall my salvation come; from whence arise?_

 _From Ilúvatar doth come my certain aid;_

 _From Ilúvatar who heaven and earth hath made._

 _I lift up my eyes to the mountains; where does my help come from?_

 _My help comes from Eru, the Maker of heaven and earth_

 _He will not let my foot slip; he who watches will never slumber_

 _Indeed, he will never slumber, nor sleep_

 _Eru watches over me; he is the shade at my right hand_

 _The sun will not harm me by day, nor the moon by night_

 _He will keep me from all harm; he will watch over my life_

 _He will watch over my coming and going, both now and forevermore._

Arwen's whispered prayer reached him and Aragorn stared at their empty bed. Lifting his head, he saw her, kneeling at the end of their bed, her face pressed to the sheets. She had woken again, in pain it seemed, and it was not yet midnight. He rose and went to her, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around her, resting his head against hers. Feeling her trembling, crying, his eyes filled as well.

"I have tried to accept this…" she groaned as she wept, "I have tried to accept this but I _cannot_. How can I _do_ this? There are too many dreams that will go unfulfilled, too many prayers that cannot be answered, too many people with expectations." She choked out a sob and raised her head to look into his eyes, hers filled with pain. "I still _feel_ him, Estel…there, inside me as a phantom. I wake in the middle of the night _shaking_ …I cannot stop seeing his eyes, _your eyes_." Her eyes were haunted by the memories of her nightmares. " _I want him back, and it cannot be!_ "

"I know," he whispered, "I do, too."

"They…the Healers…they prepared a box for him," she sobbed, "I watched them! The box was so small…" she stared down at her hands, tears pouring down her face, "no bigger than my hands! _He was so tiny…_ and we will never hold him… _never_ …"

He pulled her into him then, gripping her tightly to his breast, crying as she was. He knew the Healers would have never let her see the boy, and Faramir had told him she became unconscious just as the child was birthed. To have been in so much pain…to have been lying here in this bed…strangers around her…full of pain and fear…and with himself so far away…and to lose what was most dear to her. He rocked her gently; oh, he prayed thanks for Faramir and Éowyn a thousand times! If they had not been here with her…how much worse would it have been? _Help me, Ilúvatar…help me!_

"I…I am so _sorry…_ " she stuttered out. "I _know_ my pain is killing you; I can see it in your face."

"I wish I could take it all," he choked out.

"You cannot," she said, getting her breathing under control, though the tears had not stopped. "You cannot take this, Estel. Not now, maybe not ever. There is no healing power that can repair my heart from this…this gaping wound."

Aragorn scooped once more underneath her and lifted her into his arms; she was far too light. He carried her out onto the balcony and away from the bedroom which seemed, once again, too tight for comfort. It was cold, so when he set himself down in the chair with her on his lap, he wrapped her in a soft throw, holding her close to his chest. Her face pressed to his neck, he laid his forehead on hers as she lay motionless in his arms, listening to his heartbeat.

"Sometimes," he whispered, his voice tight with pain, "some moments I find myself asking…would…would it not have been better for you…would it not have been a better life…" She covered his mouth with her fingertips, staring up into his face. But he could not look at her, his eyes closed, with tears rolling down his face.

"No," she said, her voice quiet and horrified, " _no…I would rather die_ … _or_ _suffer this agony forever than to have lived without your love_. _Nothing is worth that sacrifice…nothing_." She lifted her hand from his mouth and wiped his face with her fingers. "I would not survive in a world where you do not love me, could not hold me in your arms or touch my face. No matter what I have to suffer, Estel…never doubt my choice." She turned his head and pressed his forehead to hers, closing her own eyes. "Nothing could ever be more difficult to bear than life without you."

She swallowed hard. "You spoke the truth the other night, when you said that we are still together. And…it is _so hard_ to remember when I wake screaming in the middle of the night." She swallowed again, stroking his face, his hair, his neck, whatever her hand would reach. "But then you hold me; you take me in your arms and you hold me, pressing my face to your chest, my ear to your heart, and I can feel you breathe. You are my _sanctuary_ …my moment of peace when all around me is utter darkness. You cannot feel that from me; you cannot _see_ it…but that is what I feel when I am with you. Where would I be if not for your love? I would be nothing; I would fade into the darkness that is all I see at night. Your love sustains me, Estel…do not doubt it."

He could not respond when she fell silent. He could not imagine her suffering like this for eternity instead of living without him. He could not even picture it in his mind…but he knew what it would be like for him to lose her forever. So he held her as she stroked his face, his ear, just touched her fingertips along his skin. They were each other's comfort; they were all they had.

Sooner or later, they did go inside. He laid her down on the bed, heated the sleeping tea for her, and then stared into her eyes until it was brewed. Retrieving it, she drank it, and then she stroked her nails through his beard until she fell asleep.

And that moment, just as he laid her hand down upon the bed, that was when he heard the guards shouting to one another. The Hunters were home, Enguina with them. He would go to them immediately, and return long before she woke. Bending low over her, he kissed her forehead and bundled her with blankets, ensuring she would be warm enough. Then, he was on his way to the stable.

* * *

The City was fairly silent when Legolas, Gimli, and Enguina rode into it, but there were some people still about. Every single one of them was delighted that their elf-kindred and Lord Gimli were safe; they rejoiced, and even Enguina, as tired as she was, was amazed at the reception of the people and their joy at seeing her safe. By the time they arrived at the sixth level, they were weary. The stable was dark and cold as they entered, but as soon as the lanterns were lit, the voices of the horses could be heard speaking to one another. Little Firgenwine whinnied the loudest and plunged her neck over her stall to touch noses to Brethil and be scratched behind the ears by Gimli.

"You little rascal!" he laughed as she poked around in every pocket until Gimli gave her a treat. "They're awfully noisy tonight!" He took Morlómërog into his stall and began untacking and grooming the big stallion as Legolas smiled, laughing softly.

"They have much news to share," he said. "They are filled with relief that we are home." He turned and looked at Enguina, who stood resting a hand on Brethil's shoulder. She was the weariest of them all tonight; it had been a very long ride, and she was pale in the lantern-light. And it was not only the ride; Legolas could see her, in his mind, sobbing in exhaustion as she had into his arms so early this morning, the agony in her voice wrenching his heart, the fact that she could hardly bear his touch unfathomable. In their hurry to make it home today, they had not had dinner and he could tell that without the tea Aragorn had left them, she was paying the price for that missed meal. He reached over and slipped one arm around her waist, the other hand rested on her ribs as she looked up into his face. "Are you all right?"

Her face flushed. "Forgive me, Legolas," she replied, "my mind was elsewhere."

"You need not pretend you feel well," he told her softly. "Your shoulders show your weariness, even though your face tries to deny it and…your eyes are pained."

She shook her head, sighing. "You _see_ too much…how will I ever fool you?"

He raised an eyebrow, and chose not to make a comment. "Come and sit until I groom Glosbrethil, and then I will escort you home. You need to rest." He reached up to stroke her cheek. "I would like your face to have a bit more color."

Enguina smiled at him and lowered her voice, attempting to shake off any strain. "I am sure that someone of _your_ intelligence can figure out another way of producing that effect in someone like me…"

"Why, Guin…" Legolas began, tilting his head and looking rather longingly at her lips, "are you tossing hints at me to get me to kiss you?"

She shook her head. "I would _never_ do such a thing." Her voice was so soft he had to lean even closer to hear it, bringing his face extra close to hers. Their noses touched.

He tipped her chin up with his thumb, his fingers near her ear, and brought their lips together as their eyes closed. He felt her reach up behind his head and wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer…he could feel the heat of her skin; she felt _good_.

Gimli, taking Lómë's saddle out into the aisle rack stopped at stared at the two of them. Shaking his head, he tried to decide whether he should leave them well enough alone or interrupt; he chose the latter.

"Look at you two, all wrapped up in each other. This ain't any moonlit garden, you know! This is a stable, where they feed horses!"

Legolas stopped the kiss, and Enguina lowered her head, resting her brow against the elf's chin, her arms remaining around his neck. "Gimli, are there limitations on when I choose to kiss someone?"

Gimli grinned. "Come on! There are good moments, and there are bad ones! A stable is no place for kissing, you turtledoves!"

"But _any_ place is the right place and moment;" she said with a soft laugh, looking back into Legolas's eyes. "Where your treasure is," she said softly, "there your heart will be also."

"Dwarf, I must agree with the Lady," Legolas whispered.

"I must _also_ agree with the Lady," sang a voice from behind them, and as they turned, they found Aragorn, coming towards them from the aisle, "for what else would a man rather lay his eyes on than two good friends in love and three returned from long journey?"

"Aragorn!" came Enguina's whispered cry and she released Legolas as he drew near, turning to hug him hard.

"Mae govannen bar, mallyn nîn! [Welcome home, my friends!]" he said, his eyes on Legolas and Gimli as he held her. "Let me look upon you, Enguina." He gently held her away from him and examined her face. "My dear, you look far better since last I saw you, but tired from a long journey. You traveled far today."

"Nearly thirty miles," Gimli said from off to his left.

"Thirty miles?" he asked, glancing at Legolas while still holding her shoulders. "That is quite a distance when you were taking your time."

"She would not hear it today," he answered truthfully.

Aragorn looked into her face. "You need rest." She pushed his hands from her shoulders and leaned forward, hugging him again.

"Thank you, thank you…for healing me," she said. "The tea would have done a better job had I allowed it to do it; the blame is all mine."

"Of course it is," he agreed, sighing. "But I am glad you are home, finally, even more tired than you should be." He released her and Legolas hugged him next.

"It is good to see you well," the elf stated, "and Brego, too. We had feared you would push him too hard and would have been forced to walk to Minas Tirith, but you both survived."

Aragorn smiled. "Brego had the wings of an angel, and for that he deserves great honor." He reached over and stroked the bay's neck. "May I present to you Métimastaldo Bregothalion, a more honorable name to pay tribute to the courage of one so close to the King's heart. Hooves of fire and wings of prayer are his assets, and the devotion of the most loyal of friends to his master." He turned back to them. "It took nearly two days for Brego and I to return."

"What speed and strength!" exclaimed Enguina. "There is not a faster horse in all of Middle-Earth!" Brego tossed his head, and Asfaloth whinnied his praise for him as well.

"Indeed," said Gimli, "for Shadowfax is no longer with us, but with Gandalf. What a race that would've been." Asfaloth snorted as Aragorn clasped Gimli's arm and hugged him.

Aragorn smiled. "No, Asfaloth; I doubt very highly that all praise shall go to his head."

Enguina leaned against the stall door, and it was then all eyes turned to her. She gave a tired smile. "Forgive me, my Lords, but it seems my weariness has finally caught up with me. My eyes are going to close here in the hay if I do not see my bed soon."

Legolas stepped to her side as she spoke. "I shall walk with you," he told her, but she shook her head.

"No, Legolas, Brethil deserves care, and I can certainly make it from here to the house on my own, even in the dark and snow. But, I cannot go anywhere before setting my heart to rest." She looked directly to Aragorn then, and her eyes were so worried that he felt his heart plummet to his toes. "Did you arrive in time? Is Arwen well?"

Aragorn looked at her and a quarrel took his heart: tell the truth that Arwen had been ill and lost their child and was exhausted and filled with heartache, or tell her that Arwen was well and set her mind to rest for an evening so that she might find some rest herself? He chose; he had to. "Arwen is well, Enguina," he said softly. "Do not trouble over her until tomorrow; she sleeps peacefully at this moment." That, in part, was truth. He felt Legolas's eyes boring holes into his back; no one knew him better than Legolas, and no one could spot a lie faster, either…aside from himself of course.

Enguina, who did not know Aragorn anywhere near as well, did not notice he was leaving huge gaps from the story. "Can I see her at breakfast tomorrow?"

"Of course," he said. "All of you are invited to our home as usual. But, if you are still tired, as it is very late already, come for lunch and sit on the porch with us. We are very glad you are home."

"Will you tell her we shall come?"

"I shall indeed," he replied.

"Then I shall now take my leave," she said with a smile.

"Not so fast," Aragorn said, catching her arm and tugging her gently to a halt. "Let me ask one of the guards to walk you—"

"I am _fine_ ," she insisted, rolling her eyes.

"Excellent idea, Aragorn," said Gimli. "That'll put all our minds at ease!"

"And it will embarrass the rest of us!" exclaimed Enguina as Legolas looped her hand through his arm, following Aragorn back down the aisle. Gimli led Brethil into his stall as the other three made their way back to the door of the stable.

"Please, the guard out front is Hildanir, who is just as pleased to see you returned well as I am," Aragorn stated. Enguina's eyes lit up.

"Hildanir?" They came out the front of the stable and there he was. Having not been there when they had entered, he had followed the King down from his post near the House and was waiting for the King to return.

"Hildanir," Aragorn said, stepping up to his side, "would you take the honor of escorting the Lady Enguina back to her home? She has been on a long journey, and we would like to be sure she is safe."

"Of course, my Lord," he said, bowing his head. "Would you like me to return here—"

"No, no, I can see myself home, thank you."

"Guardsman," Enguina said softly, reaching out and touching the young man's arm, "thank you so much for your bravery in the stable that night. It is good to see you have healed."

"And you, my Lady," he said, bowing again. "I am glad you were found and that you are safe. We all feared the worst."

"I was found, thank Heaven." Legolas released her arm, but caught her hand, turning her back to him. She smiled at him. "Come to me in the morning?" she whispered and he could not help but smile back at her.

"I will be there," he promised. She began to turn away, but he had grown so used to kissing her goodnight that he could not release her from his sight without doing so. He held her hand and tugged her back to him, slipping a hand beneath her hair and tilting her head so he could kiss her. Hildanir awkwardly turned his head aside, but Aragorn simply stood and gazed at them; for the first time in days, a bit of joy flooded his heart. Not _relief_ …joy…and it felt good.

Legolas's hand slipped from her neck and he let her go, dipping his head a bit. "Forgive me, that was not the most…appropriate thing I have ever done," he whispered a bit guiltily.

"Nor the most inappropriate," she teased gently, but tempted to kiss him again, she took a step back. "Come, Guardsman…take me home."

"Yes, my Lady," Hildanir said, and took his place beside her as she turned away, smiling at Aragorn.

"Good night, Aragorn."

"Sleep well, Enguina."

When she had disappeared into the passageway, he glanced at Legolas; whose eyes were fixed on the darkness and whose thoughts were clearly still on that last kiss. He reached over and rested his hand on Legolas's shoulder; the elf turned to meet his eyes and found, to his surprise, that there were _tears_ in them. Legolas's dazed expression changed to concern, but it was Aragorn who spoke first.

"I have…never been happier," he said, gently, "for _anyone_ in my whole life." His hand tightened on the elf's shoulder. "I have known you for so long, it is like we are brothers. Long have I prayed for someone to capture your heart as Arwen has taken hold of mine. Ever have I wished you joy, Legolas…and for you to find it in her and she in you, my heart is filled with joy at the sight of you together, in love."

"Thank you," Legolas said softly. "Enguina has...bewitched me, body and soul. She has taken the place of the other half of my heart; though she may not know it yet, I do. Thank you again, for your words."

Aragorn laughed at himself as he released Legolas's shoulder and raised his hand, wiping his eye with the palm. "Forgive me."

Legolas followed the man as he turned to lead the way back into the stable, but he followed a slowly. _Forgive him_? For… _what_ , exactly? There had been very few times he had seen Aragorn truly upset…was he apologizing now for the tears? And why had he shed tears if he was so full of joy that they were together? The lie in Aragorn's grey eyes and voice as he had spoken with Enguina came back to him as they walked. Yes, it had definitely been a lie. He reached out to catch Aragorn's arm and stop him then and there to ask him, but Gimli's voice interrupted him as they made it back to the end of the aisle.

"Well, Brethil's taken care of lad, so you could've just followed her out if you wanted," Gimli said, dusting his hands off. "I even brushed him down."

It took Legolas a moment to shake off his thoughts of confrontation enough to register what Gimli said. "Thank you, Gimli. I am sure he was grateful…I did not mean to neglect him." Brethil snorted, not even bothering to pull his head out of the leaves of hay Gimli threw in his stall.

The dwarf laughed and shrugged. "I'm sure he wasn't worried about it."

"Tell me, both of you," Aragorn said, leaning against Brego's stall door, "how was the return journey? Enguina is not as well as I had hoped."

"She was very well until today," Gimli said, sighing, as Brego's head came over the stall door. "I was pretty sure the wound was all better, according to her, but we rode so long today and didn't have dinner. She's tired; like the rest of us!" The big bay rested his chin on Aragorn's shoulder and he reached up to stroke his forehead. Asfaloth also followed suit, nosing Aragorn's cheek as he reached up to stroke the grey's cheek as well.

"She would not allow us to rest more often," Legolas said softly, "such was our hurry to return and hear news of you and Arwen." Asfaloth nickered low in his throat, Brego snorted, and suddenly, Brethil's head was over the door, his eyes wide and alarmed as he whinnied loud and long. Legolas looked over at him, worried.

"What is the matter, Glosbrethil?" he said, reaching up a hand towards his face. But the grey would not be calmed, throwing up his head and roaring low in his throat, stamping his front hooves. Lómë became agitated as well, stamping his feet. "Easy, easy…" Legolas tried to soothe him, but he yanked his head back over the door and began to pace his stall. Brego called to him and the grey pressed his head back over and whinnied again.

"Aragorn, what—" Gimli began, and Brethil, though still wide-eyed and stamping his front hooves began to quiet.

Legolas turned to face the man, and his face was firm and set. "You lied to Enguina." Aragorn looked back at him evenly, still stroking Asfaloth's chin as the grey's eyes closed.

"What?" asked Gimli, standing upright and crossing his arms. " _You_ … _lie_? Is it possible? And what did you lie about?"

"He lied to us as well."

"No," Aragorn said, shaking his head, "I simply could not tell the whole truth. Enguina needed to rest, and…hearing what I have to say…" He set his jaw.

The two of them looked at him, Gimli now swallowing hard and looking grim. He reached up and removed his helm, tucking it under his arm. "Speak the truth now, lad. What has happened?"

Looking at the two of them, the elf and the dwarf, one he had known since he was a boy and the other a dear friend, he did not know how he could tell them the truth. How could he tell them his son was dead? How could he tell them that Arwen was in pieces…that _he_ was in pieces? Ilúvatar…they would know soon enough; he was not going to make it through this conversation without losing a part of himself. He called out to Ilúvatar in his heart.

"Aragorn...you're killing us, laddy," Gimli said, interrupting his thoughts.

"You are pale," Legolas said, reaching out and taking his arm. "Why do you not—"

"I am all right," Aragorn said, but his voice was soft. "I am afraid that I do not have glad tidings to share with you. Calendur…was telling the truth…about everything."

"Dear Eru, no!" shouted Gimli, but Legolas's eyes were fixed on Aragorn. "Tell us what happened, lad! Tell us!"

"Here, in Minas Tirith, Calendur's brother and his allies attacked in the morning just before we had found Enguina in the woods outside of Ithilien. There were only ten elves, yet they killed fifteen of our guards and wounded six. Their aim was not to take Ecthelion; as you well know, they had come for Arwen and the child.

"The guards they had killed were a diversion, of course; one lone elf went to the King's House for her. Faramir recognized this for what it was, and he and Éowyn went to stop him. They arrived in time to prevent him from killing her, and she seemed well save a few scratches and bruises. She had caused more damage to him than he, her."

Legolas watched Aragorn's face, unable to speak, so afraid of where this was heading. Gimli, however, leaned in closer. "You said 'she _seemed_ well;' what does that mean?"

"Several hours later, they discovered Arwen had been poisoned," Aragorn said softly. "She knew she was sick, but she did not know what was happening. By the time I had returned home, Ilúvatar was calling her to his side."

"Tell me she's not dead!" Gimli cried, dropping his helmet. "She's not dead!"

"No, Gimli…thanks to Brego, I was able to save her life," he whispered, but a lump had formed in his throat that he could not swallow away, could say nothing around it. He waited, hoping to collect himself, unable to look at them as he spoke; he covered his mouth with his hand, closing his eyes.

"Thank Eru!" cried Gimli, looking to the heavens. Legolas set his hand on the dwarf's shoulder and he stopped speaking, looking first at the elf and then following his gaze back to the man.

"You are too quiet, Aragorn," Legolas said, his voice almost pained. "There is more; there has to be." Aragorn could not bear to raise his eyes to look at him, to tell them the truth; it was the first time the man would not meet his eyes. There was too much heartbreak…but how could he _not_? How could he _not_ tell them? He _must_.

" _Our son…is dead_." His voice cracked, broke, and splintered just as his heart felt. He lost it then, lowering his face to a hand, his composure gone, his shoulders shaking with his silent tears.

" _No_ ," Gimli moaned, " _No, not the baby_!"

Legolas simply stared at Aragorn, his own eyes flooding with tears. "Dead?" he whispered, shocked, full of his friend's pain. "No…it…it is _not possible_." He could not move; he was so stunned at the news that he could think of nothing but the man's words. How…how could it be? How could the babe be gone? Ilúvatar would not have… _could not have_ …

" _The poison took him_ _first_ ," Aragorn choked out, and suddenly, his knees gave out and his back slid along the stall wall until he hit the floor. " _He is gone!"_ he wept. " _Dead!_ " Unable to hold back his pain any longer, one hand holding his head, he cried.

" _No...no_ …" moaned Gimli again, staring at the man as Legolas knelt down beside him, overcome by Aragorn's grief. The elf laid his hand on Aragorn's head and Gimli began using his own beard to wipe the tears on his face.

"I am…I am _so sorry_ , Aragorn," Legolas whispered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and sitting down with him. "I am so sorry you are suffering like this, you and Arwen." The man's pain was like a knife in his heart; no wonder he had kept this from Enguina! Oh, she would never rest! Gimli took his place at the man's other side, resting a hand on his shoulder; they were there…it had to be enough.

Aragorn tried to control his emotions, to check himself so he could talk to them, but it was so difficult. He had never been in such grief, and every moment he felt as though the thought of the child would just continue to stab him in the heart. Rubbing his face with a hand, he rested his brow on his linked fingers, praying silently for strength.

"Where _is_ Arwen, Aragorn?" asked Gimli, grimacing. "Is she…is she all right?"

"She is asleep now," he whispered, his voice catching. "The poison has left her but she is weak, thin, full of pain and plagued by nightmares. I cannot leave her side when I have not brewed the sleeping draught…she cries in the night." Legolas watched his hand grip the tunic over his heart as Aragorn swallowed hard. "Her pain, her grief destroys my heart. _Eru has given us such a weight to bear_. _There is so much darkness before my eyes…it is difficult to see the light._ "

Legolas rested his cheek against Aragorn's head. "Ilúvatar and time are the only healers," he said softly. "I know you do not have any desire to hear words of comfort—"

"No, I have _every_ desire," he murmured, closing his eyes tightly. Gimli pressed his lips together to prevent himself from crying out loud, but he mopped his face again with his beard. "Any…any words you wish to say would comfort me…remind me that He is _good_ , Legolas. When the night grows ever darker before my eyes, any words that show otherwise would bring me comfort."

Legolas's closed his eyes and repeated words he had read long ago, his voice very soft. "I cried out to Eru for help; I cried out to him to hear me. When I was in distress, I sought the Lord; at night, I stretched out untiring hands when my soul refused to be comforted. I remembered you, Ilúvatar, and I groaned in my grief; my spirit grew faint. You kept my eyes from closing though I was too troubled to speak.

"Then, I considered, thinking about the former days and the years of long ago, and I remembered my songs in the night. My spirit wondered…will the Lord reject forever? Will he never show his favor again? Has his unfailing love vanished forever? Has his promise failed for all time? Has he forgotten to be merciful? Has he, in some untold anger, withheld his compassion from me?

"Then, I thought…no, no, I will remember the deeds of the Lord, the One. I will remember his miracles of long ago. I will meditate on his works and consider all his mighty deeds. His ways are holy; what god is so great as the One? With a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, his love endures forever. He sees me; he knows my every thought, my every grief. The Great Comforter is the same One who is with me in the shadow and in the sunlight, in the flame and in contentment."

He felt Aragorn's shoulders tremble beneath his arm, heard Gimli sniff and then begin to cry loudly, unable to control his sorrow for his friends anymore. Legolas felt wetness on his own cheek and he reached a hand up to brush it away. "He has said, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness,'" Legolas whispered, knowing where this verse ended, knowing what he was about to say, feeling his voice break as he said the words out loud. "Therefore, I will…be _glad_ in weakness…so that Ilúvatar's power my rest in me. I…delight in weakness, in hardships, in persecution, in difficulties. _For when I am weak…then I am strong_."

He knew the words were true, but they sounded so…so… _empty_ in the face of this darkness, in the face of Aragorn's grief. Legolas could hear Gimli trying to control himself, and he felt Aragorn's hand grip his arm.

"Thank you," he whispered, but he did not lift his head, did not move from the elf's embrace. It was many minutes before Gimli stopped crying and Aragorn rubbed his hand across his eyes. "I know you have long desired sleep," he said, his voice sounding a bit more like himself, but Legolas cut him off.

"I would not have you sleep in this state, Aragorn. You are not at peace—"

"And I will not _be_ at peace," he said, looking into the elf's face. "There is no way to accept this, no way to make peace with it. And…I need to return to Arwen's side. If she wakes, and I am not there…" he shook his head. "I would not forgive myself."

"Let us at least walk you home, laddy," Gimli said, sniffing, and hauling himself to his feet. "We'd walk you that far." Aragorn was silent, but he nodded. Legolas stood as well, and he and Gimli pulled the man carefully to his feet.

"Is there…is there nothing that we can do?" asked Legolas, laying his hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "Is there no way that we can…that we can…"

Aragorn looked down at his boots and closed his eyes, and Legolas could see him drawing all the strength he could into himself from his faith. " _Pray_ …" he pleaded. "It is the only thing that will help. Pray for strength; pray for healing; just pray." His mind flashed briefly back to Éowyn's face from just hours ago, as he had asked her for the same, and he sighed. "It is all that is left, Legolas."

"We'll pray," Gimli said gently.

There was quiet among them as they walked from the stable and through the passage to the seventh level. When they arrived at the King's House, Aragorn drew to a halt and looked at them.

"I…cannot tell you how glad I am that you have returned, and that Enguina is safe and will soon be well. Please, come tomorrow morning for breakfast if you feel rested enough."

"Lunch at the earliest," Gimli said gruffly. "You need to rest, too, lad."

Aragorn sighed. "Gimli—"

"The dwarf may be stubborn, but he is right," Legolas said, but more gently than Gimli. "Spend the time with Arwen…there will never be enough time for you to be alone."

"Sometimes, it is more difficult to be alone," he said softly, "and she will _not_ be pleased when she finds you have arrived and you have not come to the House."

"It will give her time to…collect herself," he said.

Aragorn smiled grimly and shook his head. "Ah, Legolas, such wishful thinking. No, there will be none of that. Just prepare yourself, all of you, for her form, and her grief. She is changed," he admitted, "we both are. One does not…" he swallowed, "One's heart cannot be spared." He frowned deeply. "And I regret that I have placed such a heavy burden on your shoulders, Legolas. I saw the sleepless dread Enguina carried, her fear for Arwen…she will be angry with me tomorrow, and that is as it should be. But…if I had lain down upon her such a tale, what rest would she have found?"

"None; not without seeing her, and that would have been a terrible thought at so late an hour and with both of them in such a condition," Legolas answered softly. "I will gladly bear the news if it would spare you the grief of telling it once more."

Aragorn looked at him, and Legolas found him hardly able to speak once more. They had been the right words, then…just what the man had needed from him. " _Hannon le_ ," he whispered. Unable to say goodnight, he nodded to them and then walked up the porch steps and went inside the House.

The two friends stood down below and Gimli once again, wiped his eyes with his beard, shouldering his saddlebags. "So sad…so sad…what a terrible thing to lose a child that hadn't even had a chance to live," he said softly.

Legolas looked at the House, thinking of the two of them. Aragorn was right…he _was_ changed; this had been his little boy, and there was no strength left in him that could ever accept that his son was dead. But it was not this that was killing him…it was _Arwen's_ pain. Legolas knew the man's heart; she had sacrificed everything for him…but for _this_? To suffer like _this_? _That_ was Aragorn's inmost pain…that she had given everything for him and yet, he could not protect her from this suffering. _Guilt_. Legolas's heart flooded again with grief for them. How they would cope, he did not know. How he would tell Enguina, he did not know.

"Come on, laddy," Gimli said, taking his arm in hand and tugging him along. "We need to rest, and we can't stand here in the snow all night."

"I…I am just…"

"Shocked," Gimli said. "And tomorrow, it'll be worse after it's set in. But…tomorrow, as they say, has enough troubles of its own. Come on."

Legolas followed him, but his heart, and his thoughts, remained at that House.


	34. Chapter 34

Author's Note: Once again, I do not own the reprise here of Chris Tomlin's "Lord, I Need You." Enjoy!

* * *

It was the closest to a reasonable hour as Legolas could come without being at the guesthouse far too early. Unable to sleep, as he expected, he sat on his bed and thought for a very long while before he left the house he shared with Gimli and wandered the streets. He had spent some time back in the stable among the horses, in the garden, even near the Embrasure. When the sun had risen, he wasted even more time going to eat some breakfast, though Gimli was not yet awake, and then he slowly walked back to Enguina's home.

He had been looking forward to seeing Enguina this morning, but now, after last night, he had no idea what he was going to say to her. How in the world could he be the one that would tell her that her dearest friend had lost her child, that Aragorn had not been able to tell her the truth? He had not even seen Arwen yet, but he knew what they would find when they met her. If Aragorn was that upset over her grief, in such grief himself…she would have to be in a terrible state.

Walking onto the guesthouse porch, Legolas sighed and outwardly collected himself. He did not even know if she would be awake, but he knocked gently and stood waiting before the door. He loved her…he would find a way to tell her, at least he hoped to, without breaking her heart for Arwen. The door opened, and he saw her, leaning against the doorframe and resting her head against it. She smiled at him, but it was a tired smile…and it did not quite reach her eyes.

"Good morning, Legolas," she said, and he reached out and fingered the edges of her hair. He did not lean forward and kiss her though. Her body language was enough to tell him that it was not a good idea.

"Good morning, _moina quen_ ," he said softly. He _knew_ …he knew she was not well. "You are not as rested as I hoped you would be."

The skin around her eyes tightened and she rested a hand over the place she had been wounded, the other arm across her chest. "I was all right…until an hour or so ago," she whispered, and he took her arm in his hand as he gently moved her away from the frame and into the house so he could close the door.

"A night terror?" he murmured, and as she nodded slowly, he found himself sick to his stomach. He held her arms in his hands. Though he longed to take her in them, he needed to know if she had hurt herself. "The wound—"

"I pulled it," she said honestly with a grimace.

He released her and walked to the hearth, lighting the fire and putting the kettle on. "Do you still have the herbs Aragorn gave you?"

"Yes," she answered, leaning a hip against the end of the table, watching him. "They are on the table, there in the saddlebag. I did not unpack them last night."

"Are you bleeding?" he asked, moving back to her side.

"No." He _did_ take her in his arms then, and she slipped her arms around his waist, laying her head against his chest and leaning into him. Tears filled her eyes, but she forced herself not to lose it; it just felt so good to be back in his arms. He rested his head protectively over hers, his strong arms surrounding her with warmth. A flash of her vomiting on the ground in his mind's eye made his knees weak. He wanted so badly to help her.

"Was it Dagnirhir?" he asked her gently. She nodded, and then he knew she was crying, his tunic absorbing her tears. When he realized she had no intention of continuing, he kept talking. "You have not dreamed in days. Why now? Was it because you were so tired last night? Were you thinking about—" She cut him off by shaking her head, messing her hair. He hesitated, but then said what he wanted. "I am sorry I was not here with you; I would have woken you." She did not reply immediately.

"You are here now," she whispered, and he lifted a hand and gently wiped the tears from her face. "It feels as if it were days ago since you last held me, not hours. The night seems so long sometimes."

He held her until the water boiled and the tea was steeped and then he took her mug and she led him into the sitting room where she rested under his arm, leaning against his side, sipping the tea.

"Are you sure you are all right?" he asked, running his fingers through her golden hair. "I see that there are digs in your hands." She cupped them more tightly around her mug.

"I am fine," she answered, trying to move past the nightmare. "Let it be, Legolas. There is nothing anyone can do."

"I wish I could take them away," he replied gently.

"Let me move past it. Distract me, and I will leave it behind," she said honestly. But he was quiet, and so she sighed. "Never mind; let me distract myself. I cannot believe that I have been in Minas Tirith for _hours_ now and I have not been to see Arwen." She laughed softly. "Aragorn said she is resting, but I do not believe him! The last _I_ heard before we were away was that the babe was very active at night." She smiled to herself. "I bet that she is just waiting for us to show up for breakfast. I cannot wait to see how much she has _grown—_ nearly _seven_ months! Perhaps we should—"

"I think that maybe we should give them a little bit more lie-in time," he urged gently. "Would you like to be woken this early if...if you were her?"

"Arwen was always a much earlier riser than me," Enguina said. "I am sure she would be pleased to see us, actually."

"You were saying, when I arrived, that _you_ had not gotten much rest," he added, "are you sure that _you_ wish to leave so early?"

"Legolas! You seem so eager to dissuade me!" she laughed. "And beside that, if anything, I feel as though _you_ looked as I felt this morning. You did not sleep at all, did you? You were all very late in the barn last night, were you not?" she began to tease him. "I very much regretted leaving; I so desired to hear any tale that the three of you would be discussing. Did you tell Aragorn of our journey home?"

"We were…not there so _very_ late," Legolas replied, his voice much softer as he thought of last evening's events and the reason he had received so little rest. "And no, we did not have an… _opportunity_ to discuss the journey."

Enguina listened to him…more to what he did not say than to what he did. There was something in his voice as he spoke, something that made her think that things were not right. She looked over at him, scanning his features for details, but she was not as good at it as he was.

"If you did not talk about our journey," she asked, confused, "what did you talk about? Did…something happen in the barn last night? Was everyone all right?"

How did one answer such a question truthfully? "Not everyone was all right," he said, trying to be honest. She sat upright and he slipped his arm from around her shoulders as she scooted towards him to face him, pulling her feet underneath her and setting the mug aside.

"What? The horses—"

"The horses are fine," he insisted, waving a hand gently. "Please, do not try to guess. I will tell you what is going on." He looked at her and his eyes were sad. "I made a promise to."

 _Aragorn_. She felt her heart drop into her stomach. "He...Aragorn, _lied_ to me?" And then her eyes narrowed. "And you _knew_ it."

"No," he said, and then immediately sighed, looking away from her, his face guilty. "Yes…I knew. I have known him since he was a boy, Guin, of course I knew. I would have said something, but this is _Aragorn_ we are speaking of; if he was not telling the truth about something, I knew there had to be a reason. And he did not quite _lie_ , not outright."

"Even if there _was_ a reason, he should never have done it!" she cried. "That does not make it right! What was he not telling? What did he not say? Why would he not tell _me_?"

"Because you needed _rest_ ," he said, turning to look at her. "And because he knew that it would upset you and you would…you would not sleep."

She stared at him. "Why _you_ did not sleep…" she muttered out loud. "Oh…" her voice rose in pitch as an ill feeling swept through her, "Oh Eru in Heaven…do not even tell me that something…something happened to _Arwen_ …" He did not need to confirm or deny the sentence; she already knew.

Enguina threw herself to her feet and was nearly halfway across the room and to the kitchen before Legolas caught her arm. She did not even turn around when he caught her, though she did stop, before she snapped, "Do not even try to stop me, Legolas! Aragorn should have _told_ me! I wanted to hurry home _because_ of this, and then he makes me believe she is _fine_ so I can _rest?_ I _knew_ I should have followed my gut and gone to see her! I should never have listened! Now let me go this—"

"You need to hear me first," he said, and it was the way his words sounded that made her turn, poured water over the fire that was fueling her anger, and forced her to look into his face.

"What? What is it? Is she scarred?" she asked, thinking of her own wounds. "Has she…has she lost a limb?" Her breath caught in her throat and she could not continue and Legolas shook his head, moaning.

"Stop it!" he cried. "Do not conjecture about what you think has happened. It only makes things worse, Guin…so much worse."

"For who?" she whispered, finding her voice.

"Me," he said, voice breaking.

Her legs began to shake. "Oh… _god_ …" It was _bad_ … This was so unexpected; it was so bad that Legolas's grief took her feet out from underneath her. She was suddenly in sinking sand, and she was fighting to keep her head above water. Her heart beat rapidly, her head swam. He caught her arms in his hands and she breathed out slowly.

"Sit down," he said to her, and she choked back a sob without realizing it. Legolas sat her on the edge of the tea table—it was the nearest thing to her. She set her head in her hands for a moment and he was gone from her side and back in an instant, forcing a glass of water into her shaking hand. He helped her take a sip, and then her head returned to her hands. He knelt in front of her, holding his hands on her shoulders. "I am so sorry…I did not mean for…I do not know how I meant to tell you, but this was not it," he whispered. "Forgive me."

She drew a shaking hand from her face and looked at him, her eyes full of panic; she could not possibly get a handle on her emotions now. Her worry was so intense that her voice was thick with fear but barely above a whisper when she asked the impossible question, " _Is she dead?_ "

"No," he said immediately, shaking his head, "Arwen is very much alive. But the night before we found you, Minas Tirith _was_ attacked by the Mirkwood Elves…and she was poisoned."

"But she is all right!" she cried, tears coming to her eyes. He reached up and cupped her face in his hands, wiping her tears away as they began spilling over. Her fingers wrapped around his wrists, gripping him tightly and her nails dug into his skin in her panic. "She is _well_ …Aragorn said she was _well_!"

"Aragorn arrived home in time to save her life," he whispered, but those words were too ominous to her. She knew what they meant deep in her heart, but her mind rejected it.

" _No_ ," she muttered, choking back another sob, but she could not stop the tears even as Legolas continued to wipe them away. " _No, no, no, no, no…_ "

"Arwen is…weak, thin, exhausted," he continued, "and she is alive…but she and Aragorn are _not_ well. That was the part that Aragorn told you that was not true."

" _Please…please, it is not true!_ " she begged him, gripping his hands even tighter.

"She miscarried," he said as gently as he could, but nothing would prevent her heart from breaking, just as his had.

" _No…_ " she cried, breaking down into sobs, and he sat beside her, wrapping her into his arms. " _No, no, it cannot be true…their child, their baby! No…_ "

"It is true," he whispered. He could not say more, as close to his own heart as they were, he knew how shocked and hurt she was.

"Oh… _oh god…Arwen…how they must be hurting_ …"

Her mind was a tangled mess of fierce grief for them; she could remember the way Aragorn held Arwen, the way she had seen Arwen rest her hands against her womb, the way Arwen had said Aragorn would sing to the baby, how he could hear, knew their voices… _she_ had felt the child herself!

It was some time before she could collect herself enough to force her tears to a dull roar, and even then, she felt nothing but sorrow. Lifting her head from Legolas's chest and trying to wipe her face with a hand, she stared at his tunic-front.

"Did…did he know…did he know when he came?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes, the child had died before he had even been on the road a full day. When he arrived, Faramir told him everything, I am sure, but he was in just enough time to save her."

"How… _how awful…_ " she whispered, and then looked up into his face. "Was…did they _know…_ "

"The child was a boy," Legolas told her, and another sob caught in Enguina's throat.

"What do we _do?_ I have to get out of this house…I need to be outside…to…to _pray_ ," she groaned, and he took her hands in his own, pressing his lips to her forehead. " _We need to pray_ …"

"I…have a place," he said gently, and as soon as he said the words, she nodded, knowing immediately where he would take her.

" _Please_ …" she agreed, and the two of them rose together, Enguina continuing to wipe her face as they got ready to leave.

* * *

Arwen blinked, looking at the sunlight streaming through the window; the first bright day in Gondor since before the Three Hunters had journeyed. She stretched, good and long, digging her head even deeper into the pillow before she felt Aragorn's arm encircle her waist, his hand resting on her stomach. She covered his hand with hers.

"It is _so_ late," she said, closing her eyes again. "What are you still doing here?" And then she remembered why he was still here…he was not about to leave her side yet. Not until she was able to sleep on her own without losing it completely.

He laughed softly, and it was good to hear it. "And where, pray tell, am I supposed to be? There is nowhere else I would rather be." He kissed her behind the ear, and she snuggled her back up against him. He propped his head up with his other arm, leaning on his elbow so he could look down into her face.

"What time _is_ it?" she asked softly, and she turned her head to look at him. Lifting her hand, she stroked the side of his face. "It is well past dawn."

"The bells were just rung for two o'clock."

She raised an eyebrow. " _Two?_ " she asked incredulously. "How much of those herbs did you give me?"

"You slept," he said gently, giving her a smile. "And for the first time in days, you look rested. Does it matter?" He raised his hand to her face, running a finger along an eyebrow. "Your eyes are not tired."

"I feel…better," she said, laying her hand against his cheek, her long fingers brushing the edge of his ear. "Did you sleep?"

"Yes, after a short time."

"What were you doing?" she asked softly.

"Watching you…and visiting with our returned friends."

He heard her quick intake of breath. "Enguina is home?" He nodded.

"They are home. Enguina is safe now, though a bit tired from their long journey, and Legolas and Gimli are well. They are all safe, all home, and I am sure they will be here for dinner."

"I should go and see her," Arwen said, and she moved to roll, but Aragorn's arm prevented her from going anywhere. "Aragorn…" she began, but he raised an eyebrow.

"Let her come to you," he said softly. "She will, you know."

She sighed, her eyes growing sad again. "But…it would be better if I—"

"They already know," he told her gently. "They know the truth about what happened; I told Legolas and Gimli, and Legolas was to tell Enguina today. She was too tired for me to tell her last night; she needed to rest," he admitted guiltily, glancing away from her eyes. "But they will be here soon enough; in less time than we think."

"We have nothing ready, and it is late for me to begin dinner now. I feel as though this House has not been cleaned in days," she said softly, and then continued slowly, "and there are… _things_ …that should be put away…that we do not…need….anymore." She said the words, avoiding what _things_ she meant, but he knew already. The rocking chair, the baby clothes, the small toys that many people, including Enguina, had given them.

"Let them rest," he said, closing his eyes at the touch of her hand, sighing softly and feeling the grief rise in him again. It was always there, just beneath his skin. "We do not need to scatter the House to the four winds just yet."

"I was thinking that it might… _help_ , to not have the constant reminders laying everywhere."

He opened his eyes and turned his head to hers. "Do you think it will it stop you from thinking of the baby?" he asked gently. He did not believe it would help either one of them. "If it will help you, I will get up this moment and put every last bit of a reminder away. Will it?"

She shook her head, and rolled over into him, tears on the edge of her eyes but she blinked them away. "No…putting those things away now would only make it worse," she whispered. "Perhaps in a few weeks, when I might be able to…think about him without…without losing half my mind."

"I feel that as well," he said. "Just let it be for a little while." He ran his fingers through her hair.

"When Enguina comes, when she talks to me, when she holds me," she continued in her soft voice, "I am…I am going to shatter again. I might not even make it three minutes after she enters the House."

He continued to stroke her head, leaning down to press his lips to her hair. "This is going to take some time; it is going to take time before we can talk about losing him without breaking down." She felt him swallow hard, as her forehead was pressed to his throat. "It might be days…weeks…"

"Years?"

"Even so," he said gently. "They are our dearest friends."

"They…they will want to do something for us," she said.

"I told all of them what to do," he replied, and she lifted her head to look into his face again.

"What did you tell them?"

"To pray," he said, "to pray for strength and comfort. To help us find peace in this situation when there seems to be none."

Her lips trembled, but she steeled her will; she could do it, now, when it was the two of them and she pushed all sorrowful thoughts away…but the first time she saw Enguina's face? She would be lucky to make it through even a part of dinner before losing it. "Is it terrible…is it terrible to just want to continue to lie here, even if I am not sleeping?

He smiled at her. "No, you are recovering, my love, and soon enough, we will be back out in our City and you will be wishing you had laid in bed a bit more."

"It keeps me in your arms," she said, and he watched her smile a little bit, "as if I need an excuse." He stroked his fingers down over her face and her eyes closed.

"Lay here, with your eyes closed, as I begin dinner," he said.

"No, no…I can take care of it," she whispered, and she began to shift against him.

"I will handle it," he said, shaking his head. "Regain your strength. Let me get you a little something to eat, and then you can lay here some more." He leaned down, kissing her gently. She leaned her head back against the pillow. "Let me do this for you."

"Are you coming back?"

"Of course," he whispered. "I will be right beside you before you even notice I left."

"I think I will notice that all of the warmth is stolen from the bed," she sighed.

"There is warmth," he whispered, touching the center of her chest. "But it is inside you right now."

She caught his hands as he slid away from her, standing, but she held him there a moment, looking sadly into his face, her eyes full of tears again. "Aragorn, you know that I…you know that I love you even when I…even when I cannot…"

"Oh my dearest," he said, shaking his head, "you need to explain nothing to me."

"I cannot seem to collect my heart," she whispered.

"Time is the only healer that will make any difference."

"No, no," she said, her hands beginning to tremble, trying to make him understand as she sat up, "that is not true. _You_ make a difference…without you here…without you…" She struggled to speak and he slipped his hands from hers and then cupped her face.

"I know…it is all right."

"No, it is not!" she cried, visibly upset and the tears began to roll down her face. "It is not all right because I am…I…my heart is _broken_ and _you_ are filled with grief, yet you are always _giving…_ giving to _me_ when I…"

"Shh…" he whispered, and he rested his knee on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. " _Let_ me give… _let_ me…yes, I am filled with grief, but I…I have you still. So…I am—"

"Strong…for me…you are always strong for me…"

"There were many times when you have been strong for me when I have had no hope," he said gently, resting his head on hers. "Imagine us standing," he continued, "in your Father's study, my hands on the shards of Narsil, your voice telling me that I will face evil and defeat it; your hope enough to stay in Middle-Earth; _your_ prayers seeing me through every trial I have ever faced…"

"This… _this is a very difficult trial_ ," she moaned, laying her head against his chest. "I _need_ to stop _crying_. If I could only…if I could just…"

"It is all right; you do not need to do anything."

"But need you," she said. "I _need_ you."

He smiled. "As I need you. Let me make dinner, and then we can sit together…before this House gets _very_ crowded." She lifted her head and looked at him as he smiled and ran his fingers through her hair again. He was smiling… _smiling_ …

"Can you… _please_ …stay…stay close to me tonight?" she asked, and he leaned down and kissed her.

"You know I will, my love," he said.

* * *

Legolas, Enguina, and Gimli arrived at the King's House just in time for dinner. There was laughter inside, though they could not tell who the voices were, and Gimli laughed. "I do not want to be left out of this party!" He hit his fist against the door a few times, and suddenly the sound inside died down. "There," whispered Gimli, " _that_ will get their attention." He winked at Enguina, but she could not feel as though anything was funny at the moment.

Her heart had been heavy all day with sorrow. She did not know how to act! How should she play this? Should she make no mention of the child; should she tell Arwen and Aragorn she was sorry? She was so uncomfortable, her palms were beginning to sweat, and she began to wring her hands. Legolas slipped a hand between them and held them gently.

"It is going to be all right," he said, but she shook her head, not reassured by his words. She wished she was…but no amount of wishing would make the awkwardness she felt go away.

Faramir's face appeared suddenly in the window and his eyes widened. Laughter rippled through the House once more as he exclaimed, "I do believe there is a hungry dwarf pounding down your door, Aragorn!" Legolas snickered, and Gimli snorted.

"You had better let him in, Faramir," they heard Aragorn's voice call.

"That's right, you rascals!" Gimli hollered at them. "You'd better open up…or I'll huff and I'll puff—"

So much laughter ensued at Gimli's attempt at the child's nursery tale that he could not finish. Even Enguina was put a bit at ease by the laughter, for through the window they could see Faramir doubled over, and Legolas, beside her, was as well.

"One of us should get the door!" cried Éowyn's muffled voice as she laughed, her head resting on her arms, which were folded on the table as tears rolled down her face.

"Gimi! Gimi!"

When Aragorn came to the door, Gimli was laughing so hard that he had to get out of the way, and he moved aside so that Legolas could take his place. The man shook his head, clasping the elf's arm as he waved him inside.

"Never mind them," he said, rolling his eyes. "Faramir is hardly able to control himself these days." Legolas stepped past him, with Enguina right on his heels. Aragorn smiled at her and touched her arm; she looked at him, and she could not force the grief from her eyes.

"I—" she began, but he shook his head.

"Eat first," he said gently. "We will talk later. How are you feeling?"

"Better," she said honestly, at least about her condition.

"I am glad to hear it," he replied, and then turned to grin at Gimli as he walked into the House, finally having collected himself.

"Legess! Eguna!" Annî cried from the table, waving her spoon, and Legolas grinned at her before his eyes settled on Arwen who stood before him.

"I am glad you are home safely," she said, and he hugged her gently; Aragorn was right, she was so _small_ in his arms.

"And I am glad you are well," he said. Enguina stepped up to his side, already reaching for her. Arwen could not meet her eyes even as Enguina wrapped her arms around her.

"You are _alive_ ," she whispered, tears already flooding her eyes. She tried to hold them back, contain them, force them away.

"We both are," Arwen laughed softly. No, if her thoughts stayed focused, she could keep her own tears at bay for a moment. But this hug had to end now, and she could not look into Enguina's face. "I have been so worried for you. Aragorn told me you were hurt. Thank Ilúvatar they reached you in time; I prayed every day when you were away."

Enguina nodded as she released Arwen, successfully keeping her own tears at bay. As she let her go, she could not help but notice how much weight Arwen had lost, and that, even with a smile on her face, she could see the set of her shoulders and the way she carried herself. Exhausted by grief.

"Thank you," she said, "I know those prayers helped."

"Come on, everyone!" called Gimli. "Let's dig in before the food is cold!"

"Did you cook tonight?" Legolas asked softly, as Enguina still watched Arwen.

The younger elf shook her head. "Aragorn's hands prepared this dinner. I can be honest and say that I did not even watch."

Legolas laughed. "I hope we all survive the meal!"

"Take a seat before I do not allow you to have one," Aragorn said, appearing on Arwen's other side and taking her arm.

"I was going to tell him it was harsh of him to say," Enguina said, "but I simply did not get the words out fast enough. Do _I_ still get a chair at the table?"

"I still lay claim to a chair," Legolas insisted. "It is only that I must stop teasing my host, otherwise, I will be sent somewhere else."

Arwen smiled at them. "Come and sit, both of you, and have something to eat. It is good to have you home." She touched Gimli's shoulder as Aragorn held out her chair, and soon they were all seated and eating, together for the first time in weeks.

* * *

When Annî nearly fell asleep at the kitchen table, Faramir and Éowyn decided to call it a night and Gimli followed them out. As soon as the tea was finished that Aragorn had been brewing, Enguina poured two cups, for herself and for Arwen. Legolas was seated at the table, and the room had just fallen silent as she looked back over her shoulder at the younger elf. She had been studying Arwen for the last hour or so, and she could tell how tired she was, how drawn her face seemed, the slump of her shoulders, even how little she had eaten. She was about to ask her if she wanted to go into the other room and sit together for a little while, but Aragorn got there first.

Pushing back his chair, he stood up and moved behind Arwen, laying a hand in her hair and leaning down to press his lips to her temple. "I am going to borrow Legolas for a few moments outside," he said softly.

She turned her head and looked up at him, his hand still in her hair. "Outside?"

"For a short time," he said. "We will be just out on the porch." Legolas, though internally surprised, did not let any show on his face as he stood as Aragorn spoke. The man looked down into her eyes tenderly for a moment. "Call me," he whispered, "if you need. Enguina will keep you company for a little while." Enguina scooped up the two mugs into one hand and came up beside him, offering her hand to Arwen.

"Come on, leave them to it," she teased softly, a bit of a smile on her face

Arwen looked to her hand, looked up into Aragorn's eyes and then nodded slowly to him before she took it, allowing Enguina to draw her up out of the chair. Carrying the two mugs and leading Arwen gently by the hand, Enguina moved into the other room and out of Legolas's sight. Aragorn hesitated just a moment, and then opened the front door, nodding Legolas out before he closed it. Taking out his pipe, Aragorn took a chair and pulled up his knee to his chest, resting his arm on it as Legolas took one opposite him, his back to the outside world, his focus on Aragorn alone.

"She seemed…all right tonight," Legolas said softly. "How was she today?"

"No, you first," Aragorn refused, shaking his head. "How did you find Enguina today? Did she sleep well? She told me that she was feeling quite well when we were at dinner. She looks less pale than she did yesterday."

He frowned. "She had a nightmare early this morning when I went to her, and she had pulled the wound and dug her hands. Aside from that and the _..._ news…" he said regretfully, "she _was_ quite well. I was hoping you had a better day today. We prayed for you…for hours."

Aragorn looked to him and smiled. "Hannon le, my friend. Today was…all right. Arwen slept late, and so did I for the first time since I can ever remember." He shook his head. "No nightmares, a quiet afternoon spent…talking about the coming few days, our plans…"

"Which are?"

He sighed, drawing on his pipe quietly for a moment. Legolas got the impression that he did not approve of what they had discussed. "She is going to begin her normal routine tomorrow, as am I. She to do some visiting…I to the fourth level with Faramir."

Legolas looked at him in disbelief. " _Tomorrow_? Aragorn, she is clearly not recovered enough to—"

"You think I do not know this?" he asked, frustration evident in his tone. "Oh, Legolas, Legolas…you do not _know_ …you _cannot_ know…I know well enough what is going to happen tomorrow morning when we part. _I know very well_. She will be calling for me…" He stared off the porch and sighed; Legolas could see the weight on his shoulders, pressing down on him.

"She is not recovered enough; she has not come to terms with—"

"It is not only that," he said softly. "Physically, she is not ready. She is exhausted now, and she has been awake for only seven hours. She is not yet prepared for this; her body has not recovered. Yes, she is healed, but she was _poisoned_ …she could use a few more days in bed." He shook his head. "And yet, what good will that do if she cannot sleep peacefully? She tosses fitfully without a serum if she sleeps more than a few short hours. The loss of the babe haunts her," he finished with a whisper.

"Why would you let her do this?"

"She must," he said, his voice full of pain. "You cannot know her heart…she wants to try, and who am I to say she cannot do it?"

"You are her husband! How…how can you stand to leave her," he asked, shocked, "even for a moment? How can she be in the House and you out here, when she is awake and moving and…there are reminders of the child everywhere?" He shook his head. "I cannot _fathom_ it, Aragorn. I cannot imagine that if I were you and it were Enguina who was hurting like that. I would be unable to leave her side even for a moment…but I am not so strong as you."

"I have no strength left," Aragorn replied honestly. "But, I never leave her, Legolas. I…I am present in that room with her, every moment. All she need do is call me…and I will be there at her side in seconds. Perhaps Enguina's presence will comfort her; I do not know. Perhaps she will not call for me tonight."

Legolas was a bit confused by Aragorn's words, thinking that he must mean that he was with her in spirit. He sighed. "She may yet call you; Enguina has been in pain all day over your loss." He reached up and rested his hand over his own heart, wincing. "I could barely handle the strain of it, yet I have nothing to _do_ with it. I know this is going to seem a bit strange…" he said softly, "but there is something I need to talk to you about. I need to know if I am going mad."

"Mad?" Aragorn asked. "How so?"

"I have been…no, let me begin again. There are moments when, in my head, I can…I can hear Enguina's voice." He shook his head. "Sometimes, it is just her voice; sometimes it is more than that…feelings come along with it, pain…panic…even terror."

"You…hear her voice in your head?"

Legolas blushed, unable to meet the man's eyes. "I do not even know why I mentioned it!" he cried. "I am mad, just pretend I—"

"No, no," Aragorn said, holding a hand out to halt him. "You are not mad—"

Legolas lifted his head. "I am not?"

Aragorn laughed softly. "No, you are not. When did this happen?"

"The first time?"

"You can begin there, if it is easiest."

"I was at the butcher's shop, and I came out and she was not there," he said. "Dagnirhir already had her in the alley, and I was looking all over for her, panicked. But I was struck by…by _her voice_ , calling out for me in pain; it was not out loud…she was screaming _in my head_. And I…nearly fell to my knees as I was suddenly struck by fear and terror that were not my own." He looked into Aragorn's eyes for the first time. "It was unlike anything I have felt before."

"And you have felt it since then?"

"Many times on our journey to find her," he said softly. "She called my _heart_ , her voice over and over inside my head. There were times when you looked back at me and I thought for sure you knew something was wrong…but you never asked. And on our journey home, there were nights she would sleep in my arms and dream of terrible things…and she would call for me."

"Does she know?"

He shook his head. "If she does, she has not said a word, but it is awful and strange to feel the pain that she feels…how…how is it even possible? I have never…I have never _heard_ of such a thing!"

Aragorn set down his pipe and leaned toward the elf. "I cannot answer your question—"

"I know," Legolas grimaced, holding his head, "but it is driving me _mad_! The only person to ever have the ability to communicate as this was the Lady of the Golden Wood and she would communicate words, not feelings, and calling my name in my—"

"Legolas, I cannot answer _how_ it is possible," Aragorn repeated, "but I can tell you a bit more about what you are feeling; that, at least, may help you."

"You…" he said, trying to understand Aragorn's words, "you can?"

He nodded slowly. "It seems that you have formed a similar bond with Enguina as I have long ago formed with Arwen, many years ago."

"Bond?" he asked, confused. "Then…this is not unusual?"

"Unusual? No, it most certainly _is_ unusual. I know of no one else who can communicate this way. It is both…a great gift, and a great burden." Aragorn's eyes were dark with pain. "When I told you I am present in that room with Arwen, I meant I know what she is feeling."

"And calling you—"

"Is not physical," he acknowledged. "She is calling my heart, pulling me to her, as Enguina was to you. If she calls me, I will know. She does not need to speak out loud."

"She knows of the connection?" Aragorn nodded. "How…how was it made?"

"I do not know. I only know when first I heard her call me, straight to my heart," he said, remembering, closing his eyes. "She had been attacked by orcs beyond the Celebrant in Lórien…they would have tortured her had I not come when I did. But…there are other things that can be shared through the bond, I have found. Peace, healing, joy, even love…it is amazing how it can amplify your feelings, good or ill." He sighed softly. "Sometimes, I feel as though she calls for me even when she does not know it."

"Is it constant?" he asked, amazed. "Can Enguina feel _me_?"

"Arwen did not know of the connection until I told her of it; but I discovered how to reach out to her. She had been unconsciously doing it." Aragorn gave a wry smile. "And I _had_ to tell her…she was standing right before me and her voice was _screaming_ in my head. It was excruciating."

"Did she call you…as you were riding home?"

"Yes," he said softly, "and I could get home no faster, just as you could not get to Enguina any faster. Under reasonable conditions, I can send Arwen my peace, comfort, through the bond…but her mind was so clouded by pain and fever. No, there was nothing I could do."

Legolas was silent for a moment. "Should I tell Guin?"

"When you feel the time is right," he said gently, "you should."

"Is there any way to stop it at all?"

"I never had a reason to desire it to end. I cannot tell you what to do."

"You do not want her pain in your mind to end?" he asked softly, wincing. "I cannot imagine what that must be like."

Aragorn swallowed with difficulty, his voice hoarse when he spoke. "It is _agony_. But if there is anything I wish, it is not to stop her pain in my mind, it is to _take_ her pain, every last bit of it. Her suffering…I cannot bear."

Legolas was silent for a moment, thinking of the man's words. Aragorn was right, of course; if the pain that he felt from Enguina ended, it would only mean that _he_ did not feel it, not that _she_ did not. Did he want that? No, if anything, he wanted to be at her side, stopping the nightmares before they began, waking her before they took hold of her. "No…I cannot imagine that you ever could," he whispered. "Aragorn…I…"

"What is it?" he asked.

"I am very much a fool…"

Aragorn smiled at him ever-so-softly. "You have said so far too many times for my liking since Enguina arrived in the City. We are all fools in love, Legolas."

He rolled his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. "Ugh…but I _am_ such a fool! I have known Enguina just… _weeks…_ but I have been thinking of nothing else for those same weeks _except_ for her. I cannot be apart from her; her happiness is all I desire; I yearn to spend every waking moment at her side. When I am not with her…I cannot stop thinking about her; I want to know everything I can about her and more…I want to love her. I want…I want to..." he stuttered over the words.

"Ask her to be your wife?"

He looked at the man with pained eyes. "Yes… _yes…_ god, yes! Is that wrong?"

"No, of course not. You can see what she is to you, what you want her to be. You can see your future in her eyes when you look in them," he said softly.

"How can I know the time is right?" he asked, his voice pleading. "How will I know when to ask her? Is it too soon? And now this…this sadness…"

Aragorn shook his head. "The best thing you could do in a million dreams is to ask for her hand. The time? The time you will know; there is no _right_ time, Legolas. Whenever you ask her shall be the right time. I remember…" he continued, "walking upon the grass of Cerin Amroth, in Lórien…on that fair hill…and looking into Arwen's eyes. I was nothing; nothing and no one that she should have desired to be with me, yet…I asked her to be my wife. A mere Ranger…asking for the hand of the fairest of the fair, the descendent of Lúthien, yet she still accepted me. She was all I knew of love…all I have ever known."

"You never told me where you asked her; I never knew when you had," Legolas mentioned. "I still find it hard to imagine that you never…you were never in love with a mortal woman; never, in all the time that you have walked in Middle-Earth."

Aragorn looked over at him, blinking, coming out of his memories. "From the first moment I saw her, I knew…did you not know, Legolas? Did you not know from the moment you laid eyes on Enguina?"

"She was the only one." He looked down. "She will _be_ the only one; my heart belongs to her."

"And if you had to wait…forever…to be with her, would you? And love no other?"

Legolas looked up, smiling ruefully. "I see what you mean."

"I cannot believe you have not already asked her," Aragorn sighed as he smiled back. "I thought for certain that you might come back betrothed."

Legolas's sigh was full of long suffering. "I did not have the _ring_ with me."

"I gave Arwen nothing for my pledge," he said.

"No," he laughed, "she gave you instead, the Evenstar. How I remember well."

Aragorn reached over and laid a hand on the elf's shoulder. "As do I."

He sighed. "I know she loves me," he said quietly, "and we all but pledged our hearts to one another, but…I have not asked her yet. I spent nearly three hours last night staring at that ring."

"The one you had made from the Glittering Caves?" Aragorn asked knowingly.

"How…I never…"

"The dwarf does not keep secrets, _and_ he worries for you more than you know. You were not made to be alone, Legolas," he said gently. "Ask her…there cannot be even a thought that she would refuse you."

"How can you know, Aragorn?"

"Your hearts are true to each other," he said, leaning back in his chair and resting his head.

"You always were very good at reading hearts," Legolas replied.

Aragorn sighed softly, closing his eyes. "It is nearly time to go back inside. Arwen is…tired."

* * *

Arwen settled onto the window seat, her legs curled up beneath her just as the front door closed behind Legolas. Enguina reached forward, placed the mug in Arwen's hand, and sat beside her, though a bit gingerly; the wound had not pained her all day, but it was time to be resting, and she was still healing.

"Thank you," Arwen said softly and very quietly sipped her tea. She watched Enguina; she knew it was coming, soon…there would be no doubt that Enguina would ask her, would talk about it, would tell her how sorry she was. It could not go unsaid, unmentioned…but there were other things that mattered before she lost herself in the grief again. Though, if Ilúvatar was good to her, perhaps she could make it. Perhaps she could hold onto herself through the conversation…though it would be nearly impossible.

Smiling gently at her, she reached over and stroked Enguina's hair once with her hand. Then she slipped her fingers beneath Enguina's chin and turned her face toward her. "I thank Ilúvatar when I see you; I am so glad that you are home, that you are safe. Tell me of your journey; tell me what happened. Aragorn said you were wounded," she said, "and I can see that you are."

"It was a nightmare," Enguina replied, "my dreams come to reality. I was so frightened, Arwen. Especially when I discovered Dagnirhir was part of the company…and Belegore, who had been kind to me."

"Belegore?" Arwen asked, thinking that Aragorn had not mentioned his name. "Cirgon's grandson? No…it cannot be."

"Did Aragorn not tell you what happened?"

"We…no, we did not speak much of it. He was quiet about the journey, except telling me about you. Tell me what happened."

"They took me from the City, the three men and the elf. We traveled far into the borders of Ithilien and then towards the lands of Mordor. I…tried to escape from them several times."

Arwen tried to give her a little smile. "I am imagining they did not go very well at all."

"No," Enguina said, wincing, "not at all well. Dagnirhir was so… _violent_. I was so sick from him striking me in the head; it hurt terribly. He said…terribly inappropriate things to me, but Belegore," she mentioned quickly, "even though he had helped take me from the City, tried to stand between me and that wretched man. If he had not…Arwen, I know…I _know_ what he would have done." Her voice caught in her throat as she thought about her nightmare from this morning.

"One night, I nearly escaped," Enguina continued. "But the horses made too much noise and woke them. I…used one of their bows and I…" her voice drifted off as she remembered.

"What happened?" Arwen asked, resting her hand on Enguina's arm.

"I _killed_ a man," she said, looking up into Arwen's face. "It was horrifying. I had not meant to…I had meant to hit the man, Ahadil, in the shoulder and I missed. _I killed him_."

Arwen frowned at her, squeezing her arm. "Enguina, you had no choice but to defend yourself. What were you to do in such a moment? They could have killed you at any time; thank Ilúvatar they did not."

"Do you…do you know what it is like?" she asked quietly. "Do you know what it is like to _know_ that I have killed a person, even in self-defense?"

Arwen nodded slowly, swallowing hard. "I have killed," she whispered. "Long ago, and not so long ago. It…is never easy, and it should not be. When it becomes easy to kill, then we are no longer human, no longer sane. But you had no choice. Tell me the rest of your story."

"Calendur shot me with an arrow," she said, placing her hand on her side. "It was _awful_ , and the wound grew so infected that I became ill." She shook her head. "I did not even know where I was at times; I did not know what was happening, what was wrong with me. We camped, finally, and that was…" she closed her eyes, "that was when Dagnirhir tried to…

"Oh, Arwen, he had his hands on me and said that it was right for a woman to scream," she choked out. "He said that I was his…that I was his…his _bitch_ ," she gasped, horrified at the words, "and he could do whatever he wanted, thathe was going to _beat_ me…and then _violate_ me…"

Arwen set her mug down and wrapped her arms around Enguina, resting her head against hers. "Oh…lord, Enguina…" she whispered, thanking Ilúvatar a thousand times that she was safe. "You are safe, safe…"

"Belegore came," Enguina continued, her voice soft. "He protected me…and the next morning, thank heaven, Legolas came and they rescued me. Everyone was killed, Dagnirhir, Calendur…even Belegore, who Legolas told me tried to protect me at the end. No one survived."

"And your journey back," Arwen whispered, "was it safe?"

"Yes," she said, "though my dreams have been dark recently."

"Even with Legolas to hold you?"

Enguina heard no teasing in Arwen's voice at all. "Oh…" she said, sighing, her heart fluttering within her, "I cannot tell you how much I love him."

Arwen truly smiled. "Tell me anyway."

"There is no comparing it to anything that exists," she whispered. "There is no way that I could ever find words. The way he looks at me, the way he loves…it stills my heart. He…sang to me, a sonnet of _love_." She shook her head, lifting it again to look back into Arwen's eyes. "He loves me more than I have ever felt before. This is like nothing that I could ever understand; it is incomprehensible, Arwen. I only know that I love him. _I love him_! And I know I have never felt, have never loved, ever before."

"Thank Ilúvatar for the blessing of Legolas on your heart," Arwen said gently. "I will ever praise Him for what He has done…how He has healed you, how He has blessed you with the love of a man who cares for you and adores you."

"That I can do nothing but praise Him for," Enguina agreed, "and I praise Him daily for Legolas, for rescuing me from that terrible place…for sending Aragorn to heal me." She said the last softly, and Arwen reached down to get her tea, taking a drink, giving herself a moment of collection. _Oh, heaven…Arwen, do not hide from me!_ "He…he should not have come," she whispered, and her voice nearly broke. "If he had stayed—"

"No ifs!" Arwen said suddenly, holding up a hand that had suddenly begun to tremble. "No, you shall not travel that path. Decisions and choices were made; there was nothing else any of them would have done but ride to you…nothing else! You were in danger; they saw to it that you were safe; that is all."

"But _you_ ," she whispered, taking hold of that trembling hand, "had he not come for me _you_ would have been safe. He would have been here with you."

"You will _not_ do this," she said, horrified, her voice catching as she suddenly tried to catch her breath. "I _forbid_ it, Enguina. You will not question the choice of anyone who came to rescue you." Enguina stared into her red-rimmed eyes, exhaustion and pain very apparent in them. "You were worth saving; you are part of our family, as Aragorn said, and you will not question it again… _ever_."

Enguina was silent for a moment. " _Ever?_ " she whispered.

" _Never_ ever," she stated, unyielding. "You are Legolas's and he is yours; that was never plainer than tonight at the supper table. The way he held your hand, the way you looked at each other, the way you _revolve_ around each other, the sun and the earth, you belong together…never question it, Enguina. Never."

"You…you are so certain."

"Some things _are_ certain," Arwen said, and she looked away from Enguina's eyes and towards the window, pain overwhelming her for a moment. She fought the despair back, blinking the tears from her eyes; she needed time, a few seconds, to recover. Her whole body trembled once; if she thought about the pain she would be swallowed up by it. Alive for at least seven hours…her limits had been reached. If she gave her empty womb one thought now, she would be done.

She felt Enguina's hand on her shoulder. "You look exhausted, Arwen," she said softly. "Calendur's men did not want me…they wanted _you_. Legolas said you had been poisoned…you have lost so much weight. Are you in pain?"

Still not looking back towards Enguina, she shook her head. "Only tired," she replied, her voice low and still soft. "I…I have not been able to get much rest." She could hardly hold onto the mug in her hands, they had begun to tremble so badly.

Enguina wanted to wrap her arms around her, hold her, tell her how terribly sorry she was, and that moment was drawing near…it could not be put off any longer by any conversation that Arwen had tried. No, it could not be held off. She went to reach for her, and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the rocking horse in the corner of the sitting room. The rocking horse that Arwen had told her, one of the days she had spent so much time within the House, had been made for the baby by Faramir. The rocking horse that now waited…for a little boy that would never ride it…a little boy that was dead.

She covered her mouth with her other hand, nearly losing her composure completely, smothering any cry. Then, she took Arwen's other shoulder and tugged her closer to her. "Oh… _Arwen_!" And the tears came _hard_ , expected, but much worse than she had thought as they poured down her face. She gasped, " _I am so sorry!_ _So sorry_!"

Arwen rested a hand on Enguina's arm and tried to keep the shattered pieces of her heart together. She felt as though her whole chest were vibrating with the pain, agony searing her brain, her chest, her empty womb. She _had known_ this was coming, and it had not made it one bit easier on her; if anything, it was worse. The mug slipped from her fingers, dropped and spilled onto the floor, the ceramic snapping and scattering onto the floor.

" _Enguina_ … _Enguina_ …" she moaned aloud, and the elves arms surrounded her, holding her tightly to her breast.

" _I am so sorry_ , _the baby…the baby…_ " Enguina whispered, one arm wrapped around her, holding onto her, rocking her in her arms. "I know he is gone, I know…" She wanted to reach down, to wrap Arwen's womb in her hands and cry out to the One— _why? Why have you done this?_ Instead, as she felt Arwen's shoulders begin to shake with grief, she tried to soothe her with words, with her touch, even through her own tears.

" _Our little boy…_ " The words broke Enguina's heart.

Arwen tried to smother her cry in Enguina's neck as her heart wrenched inside of her, the agony cutting across her chest, shredding her insides to ribbons. She was choking on tears and sobs, trying desperately to hold herself together, to not lose her mind to the pain. The wailing was coming; the wailing that had overtaken her a few nights ago, the wailing that she had forced away for too many hours now. _Help! Estel! Help me!_

Nothing Enguina could do was going to stop it now, and Enguina's arms around her fueled the pain, drove it to a place within her that was screaming for her baby, screaming for answers, crying for this suffering to go away, for Ilúvatar to take her pain. Arwen's body was vibrating beneath her hands; she was shaking so badly that Enguina was not even sure how she was going to hold onto her. She whispered the song through her tears that Arwen had sung with her so many days ago; a prayer that needed to be said, to be true:

 _Lord, I need you, oh…I need you_

 _Every hour I need you_

 _My one defense, my righteousness_

 _O god! how I need you._

Enguina tightened her grip on her, opening her eyes even through her tears; Arwen felt, in her arms, as though she was going to explode, erupt…fall to pieces…and Enguina wondered how she could bring her through this. How could she comfort her? How could she give her strength? She was grieving so badly for her, tears running down her face into Arwen's hair. But it was the cry that froze the marrow in Enguina's bones.

She had spent many days with Arwen in heartache before Aragorn had come to her in Lothlórien, and she had seen her upset when her mother sailed across the sea…but this was _heartbreak_. She was falling apart in her arms, the cry loosed from her throat tearing a rent in Enguina's heart.

Enguina felt hands on her arms and she lifted her head, tears pouring down her face, as she saw both Legolas and Aragorn. Legolas's hand was on her arm, Aragorn's hands were on hers upon Arwen's back. She could barely see the features on the man's face, such was her grief.

"Let me take her," he whispered, overwhelmed. " _Let me take her._ " Enguina nodded, unable to do anything but; she could not even tell Arwen that Aragorn was there, for she could not speak. "Legolas—"

"I have her," he replied, and Enguina wondered who he had for the briefest of moments. Aragorn slipped his arms around Arwen and scooped her up into his chest, holding her light form tightly against him. Legolas took her place immediately, pinning Enguina to himself, even as she reached for Arwen.

"Oh… _oh god…_ " she whispered, but Aragorn continued to walk away. Reaching the threshold of their bedroom, he went inside. The door had barely swung shut before a wail of agony assaulted their ears. Enguina collapsed against Legolas, and he held her. "She is in pain! _So much pain!_ "

"Aragorn is with her now; let him comfort her," Legolas told her, every muscle in him tightening as the wail went on, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up.

"Their _baby_ …" she cried. "How can they…how can they be in this _House_ …too many memories, too many reasons to remember…"

"Shh," he said rubbing her back gently.

"I tried to comfort her…but…but…" She shook her head. "I could not…nothing I said mattered."

"She needs _him_ right now," he told her. "She needs his healing."

They stayed on the window seat for only a bit more time; Legolas needed to get Enguina out of there, and Arwen's wailing from the bedroom was making matters worse instead. She did not want to go, she did not want to leave Arwen, but Legolas was firm—this was a pain that they could not comfort, that they had no control over. And so, once again, they did the only thing they could do…they prayed, and Legolas took her back to the guesthouse where they remained together, late into the early morning, praying that their beloved friends would find some desperate relief from their great sorrow.


	35. Chapter 35

Author's Note: The song used in this Chapter is "Whom Shall I Fear (God of Angel Armies)" and is another Chris Tomlin song. I do not own it and I didn't write it, but enjoy it any way!

* * *

Morning had broken; cold and grey, snow falling slowly outside. It was the way Arwen's heart felt as she sat at the breakfast table, barely able to lift the food to her mouth. She and Aragorn were seated in quiet, eating bread and butter, for neither one was in any mood to cook; he had cut her an apple, but she could only stare at it. Her hands were trembling still; it had been a long night. A short sigh escaped her, and she leaned her elbows on the table, laying her head in her hands, if for nothing other than to rest her eyes.

Aragorn, seated beside her, laid a warm hand upon her shoulder, pouring his heat into her.

"Stop that," she muttered, "you have been giving me yourself all night. You will not have any strength left for the day."

"Perhaps I should stay today, and not need any strength," he said softly. "Perhaps we should forget about going anywhere today. Tomorrow—"

"No, no…" she whispered, "I cannot…I cannot be in this House any longer; I have not left it in days. You should go with Faramir, and I…I will go to Ecthelion."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not today. Cirgon, yes; the shepherd, yes; even that dear old woman that you visit from time to time, Gwae, might be a good choice. Ecthelion? No."

She slowly lifted her head to look into his concerned face. "What? But most of the people I intended to visit are _living_ in Ecthelion."

"Not today, love," he said, touching her face with his fingertips. "Not today. I want you as far from Ecthelion and the Council as possible…and no matter where you go, you will not be alone." He looked at her very seriously.

"We talked about this, Aragorn—" she began, but he interrupted her.

"We said that we would see how you felt this morning," he said, raising his eyebrows, "and we both know very well how we feel this morning."

"Worn out," she whispered, and he covered her hand with his, "Exhausted beyond anything I have ever felt before."

"You are going to make yourself sick," he said gently. "You have not eaten anything—"

"I promise to eat before I leave," she offered.

"Which you will not do on your own," he said firmly. "Enguina and Legolas are bound to come within a short time. I am not leaving until they arrive."

"You will be late—"

"Faramir will simply have to wait." She gave him a look full of longsuffering, but he stared right back into her eyes, leaning closer to her so their faces were inches apart. "If you think...that after last night…I would let you out of my sight without someone else being here, you are completely mad."

She could not look away from his eyes, even though she longed to. "What happened last night will not happen again," she whispered, shaking her head slowly. "I cannot possibly have any more tears to cry." He stroked her cheek and she sighed gently, knowing that her words sounded hollow even to herself. "You need to go," she said, and though he shook his head, in her heart she felt the emptiness begin.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Aragorn rose, wrapping the cold hand he held around the mug she was still nursing on the table. He opened the door and found Enguina and Legolas standing just on the doorstep.

"Good morning," he said, standing back to let them in. "Please come in and have some breakfast, though there is not much. Some fruit, some bread…neither one of us felt much like cooking, though if you are in the mood, make yourselves quite at home." He closed the door behind them and stood behind Arwen's chair.

"You are certainly wishing _us_ a good morning," Legolas said honestly, "for you both look exhausted. You are not having a good morning. Do your…intentions still remain?"

"Indeed," Aragorn sighed, resting his warm hands on Arwen's shoulders. Looking at her tea, she lifted her hand and rested one over his, her eyes closing as she listened to his words. "Though it will be a short morning. Do either of you have plans for the day yet?"

"No," Enguina replied, shaking her head, though her eyes were fixed on the top of Arwen's, "we were simply going to spend most of the day wandering around Minas Tirith."

"If you would be so kind," he said, looking into each of their faces, "would you mind wandering with Arwen until about noon? She has a few citizens she wants to look in on. At the lunch hour, I will meet you here; I think by that time, exhaustion will be imminent for both of us."

Legolas tried to smile. "Meet back at the King's House for a luncheon nap? Sounds like the perfect day."

"Of course we will," Enguina said. "We thought to spend the day with you in any case."

"Good," he replied, "my many thanks." He leaned down and, tilting Arwen's head, kissed her on the temple and the cheek. "Four hours," he whispered to her, ignoring the fact that Enguina and Legolas still looked on. "Call me for anything."

She turned her head a bit farther, her eyes honest but tired and her voice so low that he barely heard her. "Where would I be without you?" She felt her heart flood with his light, his heat, his peace, and she sighed, closing her eyes and drawing him in. He pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I love you," he said, and then, collecting his cloak, he headed for the door. "By the lunch hour, be here, please," he said gently to them, and both Legolas and Enguina nodded.

"Have a good morning, Aragorn," Legolas replied and Enguina smiled at him. The man did not look back as he left, afraid that if he did, he would not be able to go. The moment he was out the door, silence reigned as Enguina and Legolas were frozen where they stood. Arwen opened her eyes and looked at them, tightening her hands around her mug.

"You…you must forgive me for last night," she said. "I have not been myself…I _cannot_ be myself. I am so sorry for…for what happened."

Enguina took the seat across the table from her, but did not reach out and take her hands the way she wanted to. "You have nothing to apologize for…you are hurting, Arwen. If anything, I should be apologizing…for losing it completely. I could not even comfort you."

"There was…no comfort you could have given, and that was also not your fault."

"You needed Aragorn," Legolas said.

"Yes," she answered, "I needed him."

"How are you feeling?" Enguina asked as Legolas poured drinks and then took a seat and began cutting some bread for the two of them.

"More tired than I have ever known," she replied honestly, "but I need to go out. I can rest later. Thank you, both, for coming with me. Aragorn would not consent for me to go without someone and I do not blame him…not after last evening. But…I will be all right now for a little while." She gave a weak smile. "One cannot cry all day long."

"I understand where that comment originates from," Enguina agreed, and rested her hands over Arwen's. "Your hands are so cold," she added softly.

"I will be all right," Arwen replied. "I will…heal…with time."

"It will not be easy," Legolas said, his voice full of compassion, "but we will be here for whatever you both could need. Please, ask us for anything—"

"If we can provide for you, we will. Let us make dinner the next few nights—"

"Send us on errands—"

"—let us provide you comfort in any way we can," Enguina added.

Arwen smiled at them. "You two did not rehearse that, did you?"

Enguina looked a bit guilty, but she said, "Not at all."

"To begin, let us just make it through the morning if we can," she suggested. "No matter how much I hate to admit that Aragorn is right, I will be completely beaten by midday. Finish your breakfast."

Legolas nodded to her. "Finish your own."

Arwen stared down at the piece of bread that beckoned her…and her stomach turned over. "I think I _am_ finished," she said. And then she remembered her words to Aragorn and she reached to pick up some fruit. "Perhaps I will try the apple; my stomach is done with the bread."

"You need to eat, Arwen," Enguina chided her gently. "You are skin and bone as it is."

She gave her another weak smile. "I know…I _am_ trying, Enguina."

"We know you are," said Legolas, eating some bread himself. "Shall we stop and get some muffins this morning?"

"Mmm," said Enguina, her eyes lighting up. "How does that sound, Arwen? Those muffins are so delicious!"

"All right," she replied, putting down the apple without even taking a bite. "Shall we take a few apples to the horses as well?"

"Perfect," Legolas said.

They were out the door within a few moments.

* * *

Legolas stood alone near the hearth in his home, watching the flames flicker. It was very late, but Gimli was not home as of yet; he had gone out to a local tavern with his kin and he had mentioned to him that he would not be home until late. That was fine. He needed a few minutes to think over things, to dwell on the day he had spent.

It had not been too bad of a day after all was said and done. They had gone for muffins, been to the stable, and played with the lambs as Arwen visited some of her people. She had told them they were good for her soul, as they had kept her occupied, talking, and even laughing throughout the morning; there were moments when she grew quiet, and even Legolas had noticed that she was holding herself together, but Enguina would grab her hand and chatter on about something and make her forget for a little while longer. They stopped back at the King's House, just as Aragorn had said, where he was waiting on the porch for them. By the time they had arrived, Arwen was as done in as she had said she would be, coming up onto the porch and resting her head against his chest. He had smiled and thanked them for watching over her. They had offered to make lunch for them, but Aragorn shook his head, and they had, instead, come a bit early to make dinner for the group. Dinner had been fine, although a bit quieter this evening, and then he had walked the gardens for quite a while with Enguina's arm in his.

The firelight glimmered onto his face as he looked down towards the item between his fingers that had reflected it. The ring snatched his attention again…the ring with which he intended to ask Enguina to marry him, to pledge himself to her and she to him. It was simple, a smaller carat, but still beautiful. It sparkled in the glow of the fire and shown with reds and oranges, a fiery burst of splendor. Gimli's folk had crafted it well; what a find it had been! He smiled, shaking his head at the memory; the dwarf was tied up in so much of his life now, but they would not _always_ be together. No, they could not be, for Legolas was to marry, if Enguina would have him, and Gimli was to be Lord of the Glittering Caves.

"Looking at it again, eh?"

Legolas lifted his head, raising his eyebrows and turning in surprise to see Gimli standing in their sitting room. He laughed. "Did you sneak into the house?" he asked. "I did not hear any sound until you just spoke!"

The dwarf shook his head. "No, lad…you were lost in your own thoughts." He nodded towards the ring. "Going to do it soon?"

"If the time is right," he replied, sighing. "I think perhaps Saturday. Full moon, starlight…" He grinned at Gimli. "What do you think of that?"

"Starlight in her eyes, moonlight reflecting off the snow, a silver glow about the two of you…" the dwarf shrugged, clasping Legolas's arm. "What could be more romantic? Did you think of a good place to be when you ask her?"

He shook his head. "No. I was thinking perhaps a ride in the moonlight since it will be full. Perhaps asking her outside the walls of Minas Tirith where we would be alone would be nice. I was thinking near the Anduin…perhaps we could sit there for some time and be together. Then I could ask."

Gimli nodded. "That sounds quite lovely." He grinned. "When're you telling everyone?"

"I do not even know if she is going to say yes," Legolas laughed. "Why would I tell everyone? I cannot celebrate before the event has happened!"

Gimli rolled his eyes. "Dear Eru in Heaven…she is going to say 'yes,' you miserable pointy-ear! How could she refuse you! All those nights you sat together under the stars on the way home, when you sneaked off into the woods to be alone, yes," he laughed, "I knew about them! I don't sleep _that_ heavily!"

Legolas blushed. "And here, all that time, I was trying to be secretive."

"Pointless," Gimli admitted, "but she will say yes. When's the wedding?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea. Perhaps she will have some thoughts. I hope it is not too long from now."

Gimli laughed. "You can hardly be apart as it is!"

"Too true," he said. Sighing, he folded his hand around the ring. "I think I am to the garden for a walk, Gimli. Sleep well."

"Aye," he said, "you, too…when you get there."

Legolas smiled as he went out.

* * *

Saturday, late afternoon, Arwen found herself coming down the steps of Ecthelion; she was to meet Legolas and Enguina by the tree as soon as she had finished visiting the last of the families in the Tower. She was in a better mood today than she had been in yesterday; it had been almost a week since Legolas, Enguina, and Gimli had arrived home, and she had been spending nearly every day with them for company. Today was the first day when she had found herself alone for the majority of the day; the morning, she had spent with Aragorn, though they were all to meet at Enguina's home for dinner as she and Legolas had spent the afternoon cooking there. She smiled at that thought; Legolas and Enguina…like two halves of the same heart.

Apologies had come to her on every side today from those in Ecthelion, but she had taken them in stride and made signs of gratitude. She had been able to withstand them all day, but now, at the end, when she was so very tired, they were something she did not wish to hear. Reaching the bottom of the steps, she turned down the first lane to face the garden of the Tree.

"My Lady, you are looking quite well," came a snide voice from behind her. She was midway to the edge of the snow-covered hedgerow when she turned back towards the Tower. She recognized the man who spoke, one on the Council, could hardly forget him, but she did not recall the man's name. Trying to bury her emotions deep inside herself, she bowed her head.

"Thank you, my Lord," she replied. "I am feeling a little better every day."

"What a relief it must be to your husband, I am sure, who loves you so dearly," he said, a bit of a sneer on his face. "He was so worried when he arrived at the Council chambers nearly a week ago and told us of your recovery time. Luckily, the people still get to see you even while recovering; it seems you were not as wounded as everyone thought."

"I…have nothing more to say to you, my Lord, aside from good day," she said a bit loudly, though not rudely; she was nothing if not kind to those who did not like her. She knew them already, the angry…and the words of Aragorn even from that morning rang in her head— _not Ecthelion_. She had nearly made it the entire day… _nearly_. She turned away and began walking again beside the wall.

A hand suddenly caught her arm. "No, you will listen to what I have to say, your _highness_ ," he growled, tugging her back towards him, his face close to hers. "You may have Noldore, Dintîr, and half the Council wrapped around your little Elven finger, but the rest of us are too wise to the charms of one little woman; we know a charlatan when we see one. The Council wanted you replaced long ago; in fact we never wanted you to _begin_ with. _Six long years_ we were forced to wait for a child, and we thought we were wrong about the last time, perhaps you weren't as barren as we all thought. We _rejoiced_ in your pregnancy; all of Gondor did—"

"Let go, councilman," she whispered, tugging her arm. She _knew_ where this was going, could not hear the words. Her eyes began to tear and she fought the despair in her own heart. "Let me go."

"And here, it turned out how we all knew it would at the beginning!" he snarled. "No heir from an Elvish whore…that was what we all said, what we all knew to be true. Well, you both got what you deserved, eh? _Punishment_! Punishment for being the whore that you are—"

"I am _not_ …" she said, her eyes shutting tight, hot tears spilling from them. His words, no matter how much she told herself she did not care, _should_ not care about them, broke her heart. "De… _deserved?_ "

"Do not deny what you are to me! Tell your _punisher_ , the One who took the life from you and your husband. Yes, _the_ One, the All! You both _deserved_ what you got; Elessar, for taking an Elvish slut like you for a Queen in the first place, and _you_ for being what you are. And now, Minas Tirith will _never_ see an heir; a miscarriage like this, so late in a pregnancy makes a woman unfruitful, unproductive, barren…your womb will _never_ see a child again—"

She lashed out, scratching her nails along the hand that held her, hardly able to breathe as his words settled into her heart. He called out in pain as he released her, and she stumbled back a step from him, the ache in her chest screaming for release. As she turned, he struck her across the face; it was so hard that her legs gave out and she fell to her knees in the snow, reeling from the pain coming at her from everywhere.

"Because of _you,_ " he cried, pointing at her, condemning her, "death is brought to this City, to the line of Elendil! A barren whore has no place in the City of Kings! The King's wife, _bah_ , you are nothing but a _stain_ on that great House! You should have _died_ there in that—"

" _No_!" The voice roared from off to his left, but he lifted his head too late as Enguina knocked him back into the wall of the Citadel, snarling. Her forearm landed across his throat as she pinned him against the wall, her eyes aflame. " _What did you say to her!? What did you say?"_ Her voice was a bellow; she was nearly twenty paces ahead of Legolas…this man was _hers_.

" _Gah—_ " he gagged, trying to breathe, grasping at her arm, " _get off_ —!"

" _Who the_ _ **hell**_ _do you think you are? You do not even know what you say! You are like a little child who knows nothing!_ "

" _Enguina!_ " She heard Legolas's voice behind her, but she did not even spare a glance at him, staring blazes into the man's purple face. He grabbed her arm. "Let him go; Arwen needs you right—"

She shoved her face so close to the man's, pressing hard into his larynx so that his breath came out like a wheeze. " _Touch her again, speak those words to her again, and I will cut out your tongue and hack off your fingers!_ " She shoved against him and yanked back, turning her back on both of them as the councilman fell to his knees, trying to regain his breath. Arwen knelt nearby, her body shaking with sobs, one hand in the snow, the other pressed to her stomach. Enguina went to her immediately, wrapping her arms around her. "Shh…shh…I am here…I am here, love…"

" _Bitch…_ " the man groaned out, and Legolas's brief control exploded into action, his blood boiling over. He reached down and smashed the man in the cheek with a closed fist. He grunted, his head flying to the right.

"You have said _enough_ , Gildion!" he snarled.

" _It is not true!_ " Legolas heard Arwen cry out from behind him. " _It is not true!_ " She was sobbing uncontrolled, physically sick, her head spinning as Enguina pressed her to her chest.

"No," she whispered, "no, of course it is not. You are not…you never were…" Tears of pain came to her eyes as Arwen's agony and grief flooded over her. "Shh…shh…Eru is your shield," she continued. "He is your shield at your right hand; no words can harm you; you cannot be shaken. He is all around you, holding you…reach for his comfort… _reach_ for it, Arwen…" She had no idea what was going on around her then; she heard other voices, even Legolas's, but she lost herself in her cry to Ilúvatar, singing softly into Arwen's ear, even as the younger woman wept against her chest.

 _You hear me when I call; you are my morning song_

 _Though darkness fills the night it cannot hide the light_

 _Whom shall I fear?_

 _You crush the enemy underneath my feet_

 _You are my sword and shield though troubles linger still_

 _Whom shall I fear?_

 _I know who goes before me; I know who stands behind_

 _The Lord of grace and glory is always by my side_

 _The one who reigns forever, He is a friend of mine_

 _The Lord of grace and glory is always by my side_

 _My strength is in your name, for you alone can save_

 _You will deliver me; yours is the victory_

 _Whom shall I fear?_

 _I know who goes before me; I know who stands behind_

 _The Lord of peace and mercy is always by my side_

 _The one who loves forever, He is a friend of mine_

 _The Lord of peace and mercy is always by my side_

Her words did not heal Arwen's heart, but they focused her enough to reach out to Ilúvatar, draw Him close, and wrap him like a balm around her wounds. By this time, Enguina, though humming softly in between whispering words of comfort, looked up to see a group of _very_ angry councilmen standing near Legolas. They had come from the Citadel in a group, their meetings adjourned, and saw the commotion. Noldore had been the first onto the scene, but the majority of men had followed close behind, wondering what in the name of everything that was holy had happened. There were four guards nearby as well now, standing along the wall of the Citadel, two very near Enguina and the Queen, protecting.

"What _happened?_ " growled Nardur.

"Legolas—" began Noldore.

"Gildion was slandering the Queen," Legolas said, the man's arm firmly in his grasp. Gildion remained still on the ground, a bruise now across his left cheek. "He was cursing her—"

"She has cursed us all!" he shouted, trying to yank his arm from Legolas's hand, but his grip was iron. "She has doomed Gondor to a fate worse than death!"

"Silence, Gildion!" shouted Nardur.

"You are a fool!" Noldore snapped as several other men could be heard shouting words of anger or disgust.

At that moment, Aragorn appeared from behind Enguina, the snow flying around his feet as he raced up the hedgerow, his breath coming out in gasps. Cries of "the King!" and "my Lord!" were heard from many of the councilmen as they bowed their heads. He took in the scene, but went straight to Arwen and Enguina, kneeling down beside them. _Thank Ilúvatar_ , thought Legolas upon seeing him. _Arwen called for him._

"Enguina—" Aragorn gasped, laying a hand on her shoulder and another on Arwen's back.

"That man said _terrible_ things," she whispered to him, her head on Arwen's, whose face was leaning against her neck, hair covering her face, her whole body shaking as she cried. " _Terrible things_ …" The tears Enguina had held back now slipped down her face as Aragorn lifted his hand from Arwen's back and stroked the hair away from her face. " _And he_ _struck her…_ "

" _What?_ " he said, his breath catching in his throat as he saw the bruise forming around her eye down to her jaw. His chest lit on fire. "Stay with her." He had not meant it to sound like an order, but that was exactly what it was. He rose, and everyone in the first row of councilmen took a step back at the look on his face.

"He struck her," Legolas repeated Enguina's words, this time loud enough for the council to hear them. "Gildion slandered her and struck her across the face." Captain Mennev, who happened to be one of the guards, reached down and grabbed the councilman's other arm.

"Allow _me_ , Prince Legolas," he snapped and Legolas released him, stepping back. Aragorn made to stride past him, but Legolas reached out to lay a restraining hand on his arm. _No, let_ them _, Aragorn…_

"Imprison him!" Dintîr hollered, and the men behind him took up the cry.

"How _dare_ he lay a hand on her?" asked Nardur, shocked.

"How _dare_ he slander her name!?" snapped Noldore. "Confine him for a day until we decide what we shall do with him."

"A councilman no more, Gildion!" shouted Dintîr. Captain Mennev looked to the King but he was motionless, Legolas's hand still on his arm.

"Let us take care of this scum, my Lord," said Noldore, bowing low to him as the man was dragged into the other councilmen. They began to clear back, though they jeered at Gildion as he was pulled along the hedgerow, sneering and snarling at him. "He is beneath you; give us the duty of his punishment."

"He is yours," Aragorn said simply, and turned away immediately to return to Arwen's side. "Enguina," he said, and Legolas leaned over to rest a hand on her shoulder, "let me…" She nodded and Arwen let him swing her up into his arms, her head against his shoulder with her hand still over her womb. She was crying silently, her body still trembling in his arms. He looked down into her face as he knelt there, his back to the councilmen, and then glanced up to Enguina. "What…what did he say to her, Enguina?"

"That death was brought to the line of Elendil," she whispered as she felt Legolas's hands on her shoulders, "through _her…"_ She could not continue; she had no voice. Legolas glanced up, knowing Noldore and a few of the councilmen were still listening. They should _know_ …they should know what the evil creature said to her.

"He said she was an Elvish whore," Legolas said, gritting his own teeth as Aragorn looked up at him. "He cursed her, telling her that her womb would never see a child again, and that she had no place as your wife." There were gasps and muttering from behind Aragorn; by their expressions, the Council was _horrified_. _Good…make his sentence all the more severe_.

Aragorn's eyes closed as he stood, lifting her, collecting himself, his thoughts; Legolas could see the muscles in his neck tighten; the veins pump harder as he fought to check his anger. "Enguina, your home is nearest; I would like to get her warm as soon as possible."

"Of course," Legolas said, and he drew Enguina to her feet. "We have dinner ready there. Come, Enguina, let us take her now." She nodded, letting Legolas slip an arm around her waist. She found herself watching Aragorn for a moment, his eyes closed, whispering something under his breath, but not exactly to Arwen. In his arms, Arwen's head gently lolled back in the crook of his arm, her tears silenced as she fell asleep. Amazed, Enguina stumbled as Legolas turned her, but she did not ask him, not now. They led the way away from the scene, leaving the councilmen to discuss the penalty Gildion would pay.

* * *

Arwen woke as if she had been underwater for too long and had not come up for air when she should have. Her face was cold; snow was on her cheek, but the rest of her felt warm beneath several blankets. Slowly, she opened her eyes, struggling to see where she was, knowing she was not still kneeling in the snow. Feeling warmth flow into her veins, she noticed Aragorn's hand on her face. She swallowed.

"Too warm…" she whispered, and she watched him smile.

"It cannot be too warm when your face is so cold," he told her.

"You came…"

"You called me," he whispered back, he rested his other hand on her neck and she blinked very slowly, meeting his eyes again. "I wish…I wish you had not gone there today."

"Faramir and Éowyn are to eat at home tonight," came Legolas's soft voice from the doorway, "and the tea is ready, Aragorn." Enguina entered the room from behind him, coming towards the bed.

"Oh, she is awake," said Enguina softly, and Arwen's eyes flicked to hers. "How are you feeling, love? Are you warm enough?"

Arwen looked back to Aragorn's eyes and he smiled. "She is too warm, she says."

"Should I remove one of the blankets?" she asked, coming up to the bed. "You are in my bed, you know."

"Thank you," she said softly. "For your words…for your defense…"

Enguina shook her head. "You do not need to thank me. He was wrong…wrong, wrong, wrong." Legolas stepped up beside her and looked down into her face.

"How do you feel?"

She swallowed. "Sad," she whispered, and her gaze switched to Aragorn; she did not care who was in the room; let them all hear her as her heart ached. "Gildion…he said…"

"I know," Aragorn replied, "I know…you do not have to repeat his words. He is wrong, wrong…he is an evil man, not to be believed. He knows nothing of you, absolutely nothing. His words are those of an idiot, meant to maim and wound."

"He said that we… _deserved_ this…" She heard Enguina gasp, her hands covered her mouth.

" _De…deserved?_ " Aragorn said, his mouth stumbling over the word. She watched his eyes, full of horror, aghast that the man had said such a thing.

"Wretched man," Legolas whispered.

"Yes, deserved," Arwen said, tears filling her eyes, but she did not cry…not yet…not until she was finished. "That we _deserved_ to lose the baby—"

" _Arwen_ —"

"—and that it was my fault—"

" _No, it was not!_ " cried Enguina, for Aragorn could not speak.

"—because I am an Elvish whore," she continued, hearing him choke, but unable to tear her eyes away from his, "and I am not worthy to be your wife. I am nothing but a _stain_ ," she whispered, "on the House of Elendil…and I should be dead because I am useless… _barren forever_ …" The last words came out on a choke, and her tears fell then. "Yes…I think that finishes it."

He laid his head down beside hers, cheek to cheek, tears on his face, pressing himself against her. "That is not true," he whispered in her ear. "It is not true…not true…"

"What if it is?" she whispered back in his, the terror of that thought coursing through her. She drew Ilúvatar around her like a shield as Enguina had said to do. Aragorn shook his head, unable to speak.

"He was wrong, Arwen," Legolas said from beside the bed. "For all of his words, he is no one…nothing." He slipped his arms around Enguina, closing his eyes as he rested his head on hers. "This Gildion does not make the future…no one can know except Ilúvatar, the Great One. Fret not, Arwen."

"When…" Enguina whispered, clearing her throat, and taking Legolas's hands. "I am sure you have been wishing us gone. Come to dinner when you are hungry." They quietly left the room, and closed the door behind them.

* * *

It was some time later, perhaps an hour, perhaps more, that Aragorn and Arwen left the bedroom, entered the kitchen, and took seats at the table. Arwen's face was dry, and the swelling from the strike was down, though the bruise was large. Legolas poured them stew and set the bowls down before them, as Enguina reached down and lifted Arwen's chin.

"That looks too familiar," she said gently, and Arwen gave her a little smile.

"I am all right, now," she replied, taking her hand and squeezing it. "I know who stands before me and at my side." Enguina smiled and kissed her forehead.

"I did not think you would hear my words."

"I heard them," she replied as Aragorn slipped a spoon into her other hand. She glanced at him. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

"A most resounding yes," he sighed, looking back at her and raising an eyebrow. "Enguina and Legolas slaved away all day on this meal. We should eat it."

"I would not say _all_ day," said Legolas, tilting his chair back and crossing his arms behind his head. "I still had some time to walk with Enguina, visit the horses, kiss Enguina, have lunch with Gimli, and cuddle with Enguina before the end of the day. It was nearly a perfect day." Enguina looked at him, her eyes wide and a flush on her face. But the words were _exactly_ what Aragorn and Arwen needed. Aragorn chuckled, and Arwen laughed out loud, grinning from ear to ear at the expression on Enguina's face. "What? I love you…should there be anyone who doubts it?" She simply stared at him.

"The outspoken elf who has no filter," Aragorn said, laughing outright himself. "You are such a fool, Legolas."

He laughed as well. "I will pay for my words later, I am sure, but for the moment," he said as Arwen took a spoonful of stew, "I am enjoying the effect my words have on a face that is very dear to me."

Enguina blushed harder and rested her face in her hands. "You are such a troll."

Arwen laughed again. "Now _that_ is a new one."

"What," asked Legolas, " _troll?_ No, that is my name, and well-earned, I suppose. I can be rather ill-mannered at times."

"Indeed," agreed Aragorn. "I have seen you in action. Though, trolls are rather smelly and large and overly stupid, and you, my friend, are none of _those_ things."

"Far too clever with words to be a troll," Arwen insisted, agreeing.

"Perhaps an Ass then," offered Aragorn, and Enguina burst into giggles as Arwen grinned.

Legolas burst out laughing, tipping his chair back and setting his feet on the woodpile near the fire. "That was very low, arrogant man."

"I would say nothing about you that I would not first say about myself," he said, laying a hand over his heart. "Still, you are stubborn and unyielding, protective…loving…" He shrugged. "An Ass you are, Legolas."

Enguina giggled again. "Oh come now," she whined teasingly, "I cannot very well go yelling that out in the street."

"And 'troll' is so much better," said Legolas as Enguina leaned on the table near him.

"What would you have me yell then? Legolas?"

"Dearest," he said, raising his eyebrows.

She raised hers right back. "And what am I to call you when you are mean, which you so often are? Even when you promised you would not be…promises you made that you never intended to keep."

"Darling," he said, "because it would remind you that you still love me even when you are cross. And you must call me 'my heart' on Sundays, for you fell in love with me at the church."

Enguina's eyebrows rose even higher, if that were possible. Her face was now only mere inches from his; she could not remember leaning forward as they were bantering. "Did I, now?" Aragorn took Arwen's hand and held it tightly; her eyes were fixed on them, a smile on her face.

"Yes," he said, tilting his head. "I know you say you do not know when it began, but I believe it was there. Ilúvatar brought us together, _moina_ _quen_ , may nothing ever separate us." There was silence for a moment as Enguina stared into his eyes.

"Kiss her already," came Aragorn's soft voice from across the table, and Enguina blushed crimson. But Legolas, never ceasing to take any opportunity, especially one with permission, reached up and caught her behind the neck with his hand and drew her down to him, pressing his lips to hers. Her eyes closed, caught up in the kiss for a moment, and she had never felt more at peace, even while being watched.

"I love you," Legolas said to her, before he released her neck.

"I love you, too," she said. She glanced over at Aragorn and Arwen, and though their heads were down as though they were paying no attention at all, she could see secret smiles on both of their faces. She glanced back at Legolas and her breath caught when she saw the expression on his face.

His smile was no secret at all.

* * *

Author's Note: This coming chapter of the story, Chapter 36, IS the last. I really hope you've enjoyed it, and I hope you'll watch for future stories if you did!


	36. Chapter 36

Author's Note: Thank you once again for reading my story! Enjoy this last chapter; it's one of my many favorites! :O)

* * *

The night held unlimited amounts of beauty. The snow had crunched beneath their horses' hooves all the way out to the Anduin, and now the moonlight spilled around all over the frozen edges of the river, their horses noses plunged into the snow and digging for grass only yards away from where Legolas and Enguina sat on a rock in the moonlight.

After Aragorn and Arwen had said their goodnights, Legolas had asked her if she wished to ride under the full moon tonight. She did; she would have gone anywhere with him, her heart was so moved with her love for him. She had not expected the ride all the way to the Anduin, but the horses were eager. She could see her breath, but she was not cold, so distracted was she by her hands held within his. Looking into his eyes, she could not imagine anything more beautiful.

"Alone at last," he said softly, and she smiled.

"Legolas," she teased him, "we are always alone."

"Ah…but there are no eyes, no ears here aside from ours, nothing to distract us, nothing to draw our attention away from each other, no busyness, no City…no sound except for the River." He squeezed her hands gently in his own and brought them up to his lips, kissing each of them in turn.

"And you brought me out here…" she said, no longer teasing, "so that we might be alone?"

"Definitely," he replied.

She was quiet for a moment, listening to the flow of the river he had spoken of. "That was wonderful of you tonight. To tease me…to make them laugh when they have been so hurt." She looked into his eyes. "You are so good like that, so good with words. You can bless people; the way you have blessed me."

He smiled at her and then grew serious. "When I saw you today, with Arwen…I thought that I had never seen more love for a friend then when I saw you defend her, to that man you did not even know. Fiercely loyal…I can add that to your list of qualities that I adore."

"She has defended me in ways you cannot know," she said softly. "Arwen and I have ever been the closest of friends. I pray we will always be."

"There should be no doubt in your mind. Your words to her…touched my heart. You are a comforter; you were a beacon of hope for her this evening. The light gave her peace."

She swallowed, looking at him. "She needed peace…I thought I could be for her what you have been for me. You have brought my heart peace, Legolas, when I thought I would never find it again."

"I am…" he said, hesitating, "I am so…Guin, you have no idea how you have changed me. When I am with you, I can think of being nowhere but at your side. At night, when I lie in bed I lie awake thinking of you until morning." He laughed softly as she blushed. "I can barely be apart from you; my heart _aches_ for you until I am with you again."

"Oh, Legolas…" she whispered, her heart swelling with his words.

"You…you have burst into my life like the music of the Valar, the light of the sun," he whispered. "My heart is so bright that I feel as though I might be swept away by the torrent of love pouring out of my soul. I am filled with feelings that I can barely describe of this love that has taken hold of my heart and cannot let go. From the very first time I looked into your eyes, I knew that my heart would be yours. _Only_ yours…no one else can lay a claim on it now, as if by some spell I could never love again, love another. When I see you, I see the one I would have at my side always…the one I would wish to love until the end of forever…the one that shines in my heart like a beacon…the one I would pledge myself to fulfill every desire of her heart forevermore. I am yours, Guin." Looking into her eyes as he was cradling her hands against his chest, she could see every bit of love as the moonlight reflected in his eyes. "I am yours forever, Guin…and you are mine."

Her heart was in her throat; she could feel her pulse pounding through her neck. "You…" she began and had to stop to swallow and wet her dry throat, "you _have_ to be able to hear my heart beating." Her voice was soft, but there was the lilt of a laugh in it. He smiled and raised a hand to stroke his fingertips along her face to her ear and down to her throat.

"Do not close your eyes," he whispered, and she opened them obediently. "I do not want to miss a moment of this, of you. And I can hear your heartbeat; can you not hear mine?"

"I can feel it," she replied, and he laid her hand flat over his heart. It was racing, just as hers was, and she glanced down at his hands before she raised her eyes back to his smile, his blue eyes full of love for her.

"It belongs to you," he said fervently. "Everything I have to give, everything I am, everything I will be…I am yours. All my hopes, my dreams, my life…I give them, it, to you. I am _yours_ , and always will be yours, _forever_. I have never loved before you; I will never love after you. You are all my heart knows, body and soul and mind. There is nothing I want more than to give you everything. I love you—"

" _I love you_ ," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

"Then I pledge my heart to you forever. I will love you every moment of the rest of my life, in everything, in every circumstance; in every moment I live, I will breathe your name with love and joy and peace. I will be everything you could ever need; I will give you myself forever; no one will ever love you as I will love you. If you…if you would have me…I vow to be this man to you and you alone, one love, one life together, one flesh, forever…"

She covered her mouth with her hand, tears spilling down her face as he drew forth a glittering ring, held between his fingers, offering it for her to see. Wrought in mithril, the sapphire shimmered in the moonlight, perfectly set, stunningly beautiful; she could not even breathe.

"Will you, Guin, daughter of the Golden Wood, take me as your husband? Never to be parted from this day on? To be pledged to me, to be bound to me, as I will be to you, from this day until the rest of forever? To be one with me, and only me? To care for me, as I will care for you; to bless my life, as I will bless yours; to be the mother of our children; to make a home with me; to love me as I…" his voice caught with the strength of his love, and her hands began to tremble, "as I will love you forever? Will you pledge to be my wife, my betrothed, from this moment on until the date is set, and we are man and wife?"

" _Oh god…_ " she wept, her voice breaking, " _Oh god…I will! I will!_ "

He took the hand that was resting against his chest and laid it in his; gently, he slipped the ring upon her finger and brought her hand to his lips. "Then I pledge myself to thee, Enguina," he said, with the ages-old words that were spoken by the first betrothed couple, "that I will love you and share with you the rest of my life. Whatever I have to give, I give it to you."

He waited. He would wait forever if that was what it took her to say the words, to pledge herself to him, to become his wife, to want him forever at her side. She gathered her strength and forced words out of her throat, so moved, so touched by his great love for her. "I pledge myself to thee, Legolas," she said, her voice breaking, "that I will love you and share with you the rest of my life. Whatever I have to give, I give it to you."

He leaned into her, holding her left hand to his heart and bringing the other to her face, stroking along it with his fingertips. "You can close your eyes now," he whispered, and she did when he drew her face so close to his, pressing his lips to hers, sealing their promise with a kiss.

 _Legolas! Legolas!_ Her voice cried out his name in his mind, and for the first time, he did not cringe or flinch; he was flooded with warmth and joy and light and _unfathomable_ love. It was so overwhelming that he slipped his hand up to hold the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair, her hands joining behind his neck, holding him more tightly than she ever had.

* * *

Morning came, and Legolas and Enguina found themselves sitting at the dinner table of the King's House, Arwen appearing well-rested for the first time since their return. Aragorn appeared to be in good spirits as well as he brought them all breakfast. Taking his chair once again he looked over at the two of them across the table, resting his hand over Arwen's.

"You seem to be feeling better this morning, Arwen," Legolas said, eyeing the two of them. "Were you able to rest well last night?"

Arwen nodded, slipping her fingers through Aragorn's. "Yes," she replied, smiling, "I think I am going to be all right." She sighed, looking at Enguina. "It…is not going to be easy, and I will need everyone's strength, especially yours," she said, looking into Aragorn's face, "but I can do this. You have all been…so strong for me when I have needed it most. You are all such a blessing on my heart. I cannot thank Ilúvatar enough for you."

"We will always be here for you," Enguina said softly. "As you both have been here for us. You have saved our lives countless times…the least we could do for you was help you find your way out of the darkness."

"And help us find it you did," Aragorn agreed, nodding. "Ilúvatar's strength will be enough."

"Are you out in the City today?" Legolas asked, taking a bite of a sausage.

"Together," Arwen said, looking over into Aragorn's face. He leaned over and kissed her temple and she looked back towards Legolas and Enguina. "We…are going to the Silent Street."

"To say goodbye," Aragorn said gently. "They were words we were not able to speak before. We will find a way to say them…no matter how difficult it will be."

"Would you like us to accompany you?" Enguina asked, and Arwen knew how difficult it was for her to say that they would.

Both of them shook their heads at once. "No…" Arwen whispered, "this is something we need to do on our own. But thank you…your sacrifice of time has already blessed our hearts."

Legolas looked to Aragorn. "You are sure you are ready," he stated.

"No," Aragorn said. "Our love does not end with a grave. He was here…we loved him…and that will have to be enough…for now."

Enguina stared at them both, tears in her eyes. "May Ilúvatar bless you both for the lives you have touched, saved, given everything for…Middle-Earth, the people—"

"Us," Legolas said, looking at them evenly.

"Especially us," Enguina whispered, and Arwen smiled at her. "Thank you."

"Please," Arwen said, "we are family. This House is full of love…and it always will be." There was silence for some moments and then Aragorn lifted his head.

"And what does today hold for the two of you? Dinner at the King's House? Arwen wants to cook tonight…I may help her if I do not get too lazy."

Legolas smiled. "Oh…we were not sure. We thought perhaps to visit Faramir and Gimli on the wall…then ask Éowyn if we can borrow Annî for a few hours and give her a much-needed break. We would enjoy the experience again." He wrapped his hand around Enguina's, holding it tightly.

"And then we were thinking of dinner here with you," she added, looking from Legolas's eyes to theirs. "Then perhaps we would find some time after dinner for everyone to play in the snow making snow men and Valar and perhaps even have the snowball war that Legolas and I have been planning for some time…if everyone is up to it."

"All of your ideas sound as though the day will add up to be quite nice," Arwen said.

"Every day from now will be wonderful," Legolas said.

Instead of asking him what that meant, Aragorn leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "And where were the two of you headed, late last night? I could not possibly imagine where you were going out _that_ late at night."

Legolas laughed and grinned. "Guin and I went out for a moonlit ride."

Arwen groaned, setting down her fork. "Oh…I am so envious of you both right now."

"I forgot last night was the full moon," Aragorn said, laughing. "There will be others, of course, but what a night for it! Arwen has been longing to go for a midnight ride for months."

Enguina smiled, too. "It was a beautiful night, and the horses were happy to be out and enjoying themselves."

"Did you just ride through the City?" Arwen asked. "Or—"

"To the Anduin," Legolas said, wrapping Enguina's hand in his own and then drawing it to his lips to kiss it. Turning his face to look into hers, his eyes burned with untold amounts of joy and love. "Is that not the place, my dove?"

Enguina stared into his eyes for a moment and then spun back immediately towards Arwen and Aragorn. " _LegolasandIaregettingmarried_."

She had blurted it out, her emotions getting the better of her as her eyes suddenly welled up with tears and spilled over. She covered her mouth as she heard Legolas laugh, his one hand still holding hers to his lips.

" _What_?" cried Arwen staring at them both.

"Say that _again_ ," Aragorn said, beginning to grin with joy.

Enguina lost all self-control, weeping even as she had a smile on her face. She yanked her own hand away from her mouth long enough to cry aloud, " _Legolas asked me to be his wife!_ "

Arwen screamed, and Aragorn laughed as she leapt to her feet, bolting around the table as Enguina stumbled to her own feet, sobbing and laughing at her own foolish behavior. Arwen threw her arms around Enguina, crying as much as she was; but these were tears of _joy_. Aragorn stood up as well, so did Legolas, and the two men met and hugged hard.

"Praise Him, from whom all blessings flow!" Aragorn said in his ear and Legolas held him back from him, beaming as though the sun rose behind his head.

"Hannon le," Legolas said, "for everything: your encouragement, your prayers, your gift of life…everything, Aragorn. I owe you such a debt of gratitude!"

"To see the joy on your faces fills me with the same. Praise Ilúvatar! Praise Him!"

Enguina was soon wrapped in Aragorn's arms and Legolas in Arwen's, all of them now laughing with joy. "When, when?" cried Arwen, releasing Legolas so she could look at him as Aragorn wiped the tears from Enguina's face.

"Late spring," Legolas said, "only a few months away."

"Not long to plan," laughed Enguina at the expression on Arwen's face.

"Not long to _wait_!" laughed Legolas as he took her hand again and kissed it.

"I…have never been happier for two people in my whole _life_ ," Arwen said, staring back and forth between them both. "Come and sit back down. You must tell us every detail of your proposal, Legolas."

"Oh…" whispered Enguina, her eyes welling up again, "I do not think my heart can take such words again!"

Legolas laughed. "I will thrill you with the tale if you wish."

"I do wish," Arwen said, and Aragorn grinned.

"You have always been blessed when it comes to words, Legolas," he said, clasping him on the shoulder. He and Arwen moved to sit down, but Enguina grabbed his hand, and Legolas caught Arwen's.

"Wait," Enguina said, shaking her head."

"You cannot sit yet," Legolas agreed, looking first at Arwen, then to Aragorn.

"I have to tell you," Enguina said, "that…that I would not be standing here…I would not be standing here in this room, so full of joy, so overcome with _love_ , so moved beyond anything I have ever known…if it was not for the both of you. Your kindness, your great love, your prayers, your healing hands and words, have been so forward in my thoughts and I…" her voice broke but she went on, tears streaming down her face but she refused to let go of anyone's hand, refusing to break the blessing she felt in the joining of their hands. "I just wanted to thank you…to _thank you_ with everything that I am. To tell you both how much I love you…how much I have been blessed by this friendship. I have been given my life back, in Legolas, and for that, for you, I am truly thankful, truly blessed."

There was a closing then, as much as there was a beginning. The four of them huddled together and hugged as they had never held each other before, so much love, so much joy in that tight-knit circle of hands and arms and blessings and tears. It was the beginning of Legolas and Enguina's life together, it was a start to the healing that would bring their hearts closure and peace, and it was the start of a glorious new day as they moved forward in the grace of Ilúvatar.

* * *

Author's Note: To be posted soon-the follow-up book, "The Demon Faced." Watch for it in a few days if you enjoyed this story! HUGS to you all!


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